


Officium Est Electionem

by bellagerantalii



Series: Duty and... [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Lots of Name Dropping, Rated For Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellagerantalii/pseuds/bellagerantalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feferi may be the Crown Princess and heir to a vast empire, but her life is controlled by her reactionary aunt, who doesn't let her participate in any sort of government decision making. Or any decision, for that matter. With a popular uprising looming, can Feferi find a way to save her future crown, without her aunt shutting her out completely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm mulling writing about British Land Reform for my thesis, and it turned into a super-long fic. This fic is actually the second one I've written in this universe. Rated mature for minor character death and lots of implied sex later on.

Prologue

Feferi’s face lights up as she tears the wrapping paper from Eridan’s gift. It’s a beautiful metal fish, painted bright blue with wavy lines of purple. 

“If you wind the key on the top and put it in the water, it’ll swim!” Eridan cries, taking hold of the shiny silver key and turning it. The fish moves rather awkwardly in the air, but it will swim beautifully in the water.

“Oh, Miss Gladstone, can we try it now, please?” Feferi begs, holding up her gift for her governess to see. 

“Open Eridan’s other gift first, Princess,” she replies, eyeing another, smaller box wrapped with purple paper. 

Feferi reaches for the box, and carefully hands the fish to Eridan so she can unwrap her last present. He takes it in both hands, careful not to drop it. He looks at the smaller package with some trepidation, though, which Feferi doesn’t notice. She’s much too excited about the fish.

The wrapping paper comes off, revealing a small cardboard box, which Feferi opens. Resting on a small, square piece of cotton is half an oyster shell with a piece of blue ribbon strung through a whole in the top.

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay,” Eridan says, softly, eyeing the gold jewelry that Feferi’s aunt, the Queen, had sent as a birthday gift. “I made it when I was visiting the seaside, and I thought, since you like shells so much, that you-“

“Eridan, it’s lovely!”

Eridan’s face relaxes, and Feferi has Miss Gladstone tie the blue ribbon around her neck before she drags Eridan down to the pond in the garden, accompanied by Miss Gladstone, of course. The two children kneel on opposite ends of the clear, circular pond, winding the fish up and sending it back and forth between them for hours. 

And then the Prime Minister and the Archbishop arrive, and tell Feferi to prepare for a journey. Only Miss Gladstone, her tutor, and a few servants are to go with her. Her aunt, the Queen, wishes to see her, and Feferi is going down to the capital to stay with her for a short time. 

The carriage ride to the capital takes over a day, and Feferi thinks she’s going to be sick, cramped between Miss Gladstone and the Archbishop. They stop twice to change horses and stretch their legs. When they finally arrive at the palace, tired and hungry, the Queen isn’t even awake to receive them. Miss Gladstone demands to see the Lord Chamberlain, in order to get a suite of rooms appropriated to Feferi and her staff, so that they can at least change their clothes and eat something before the Queen wakes up, but the Chamberlain never comes. By the time the Queen is ready to see Feferi, she is clinging onto Miss Gladstone’s skirts in order to keep from falling asleep on her feet. For once, Miss Gladstone doesn’t admonish her to stand up straight.

They’re led into the Throne Room, which is covered all over with black and Tyrian purple cloth, and gilded furniture. It’s rather garish, Feferi thinks, but she remembers to curtsy to her aunt after Miss Gladstone pushes her towards the throne.

The Queen doesn’t bother to stand up, but leans on one arm of the chair and just examines the small eight-year-old in front of her. Finally, she says two words:

“She’ll do.”

The Archbishop steps down from his place next to the Queen on the dais, and stands above Feferi, informing her that her cousin, Princess Meenah, has renounced her claim to the throne, and, that, consequently, Feferi is now the Crown Princess. He bows to her, as do the rest of the people in the room. 

“Make the necessary announcements, and find her somewhere to live,” says the Queen, rising from her throne and moving towards a tapestry-covered door behind her. She leaves without looking at Feferi again.

 

 

“Your highness, please hold still,” Miss Gladstone pleads around the hairpins in her mouth. “At this rate you won’t be fit to go riding, let alone a ball.”

Feferi sighs, and lets Gladstone secure the gold tiara on her head with even more subtly placed hairpins. Feferi is technically supposed to refer to Gladstone as Lady Heath now, the title having been awarded to her after Feferi became Crown Princess. Commoners couldn’t be governess to the heir to the throne. Gladstone had been all but fired by the Queen, but Feferi had made such a fuss that they had to keep the elegant, upright spinster on. Still, Feferi’s called her Gladstone for as long as she can remember and, since her governess is the closest thing to a mother she has, she’s not going to change her ways now.

“How many princes are going to be here tonight?” Feferi asks, fidgeting with a brooch she still hasn’t decided if she’ll wear.

“You shouldn’t be quite as besieged as usual, Princess,” replies Gladstone, setting the pins down on Feferi’s dressing table. “Tonight’s banquet and ball are merely to celebrate the opening of the new wing of the Natural History Museum. Mainly academics and politicians, and few foreign delegations.”

Feferi nods enthusiastically, relieved that for once she’ll be able to enjoy a state dinner and actually talk to her future ministers, instead of sitting in awkward silence between two foreign princes who can barely speak English. 

Twenty minutes later, Feferi is standing next to her aunt at the head of the palace’s main drawing room, getting ready to receive the one-hundred and fifty guests invited to tonight’s function. As usual, the Queen greets her with a curt, slightly menacing “Feferi,” and not much else. The Crown Princess is finally used to such behavior, and doesn’t let it bother her. Besides, guests are starting to arrive. 

The first to enter is the Prime Minister and his son, Lord Makara. Feferi is intimidated, but not cowered by the PM, and bemused by Gamzee, whose suit somehow always seems to be rumpled, even if all he’s done is sit down in a horseless carriage. 

A stream of nobles, academics, and inventors soon flood the room, the men bowing and kissing the air over Feferi’s hand, and the women giving her a deep curtsy. Feferi smiles at each one. If she knows them, she inquires about their family, or about something else she knows interests them. If she doesn’t, she expresses the deepest satisfaction that they could attend this evening.

“Lord Eridan Ampora!” cries the footman, and Feferi’s face lights up as Eridan walks through the door and over to her. He tries to stifle his smile as he bows and kisses the air above her hand. 

“You’re looking rather dapper tonight, Eridan, although I wish you would put your glasses on,” remarks Feferi, eyeing his crisp black suit, and his round, wire-frame glasses peeking out of his pocket.

“I can see just fine, your highness,” he smiles, careful not to call her by her Christian name in public. 

“I hope you’ll put them on for the dancing, at least. There aren’t any princes here, and I might just get to open the ball with you.”

Eridan smiles, and looks absolutely jubilant. It’s hard to make him actually happy these days, but Feferi doesn’t mind the work she puts into it when she can so easily see the results. 

The page announcing guests coughs, and Eridan bows over Feferi’s hand one more time before moving onto the Queen, and Feferi, still smiling, greets the next guest. She doesn’t meet anyone she knows, though, until Mr. Vantas, the leader of the Opposition, is announced, followed by his cousin, The Honorable Miss Kanaya Maryam. Mr. Vantas is one of the few politicians who doesn’t just pretend to listen to Feferi, and has even tried to turn some of her ideas into bills at Parliament, so she greets him with warmth. His cousin, Kanaya, is the trendsetter in fashionable London, and is wearing a stunning deep-red dress. Feferi insists that Miss Maryam visit her tomorrow, and as the unshakable Kanaya passes on to the Queen, the page announces the next guest.

“Mr. Sollux Captor!”

This is a guest Feferi is actually curious to meet. She and Gladstone had gone over the guest list before the party, and she knows that Mr. Captor is a prodigy who is quickly accumulating a fortune based on his technological inventions. The man who bows and kisses the air above her hand looks uncomfortable in his suit, and is rather tall and lanky. 

“Your highness,” he says, not quite looking her in the eye.

“I’m so very glad you could come tonight, Mr. Captor. I’ve heard so much about you from Mr. Vantas.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything Karkat tells you, your highness,” Captor lisps back, pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Captor, I’ve heard nothing but good things.”

Captor smiles, bows again, and is moves onto the Queen.

When the last of the guests have been greeted, the Queen turns to Feferi and gives her a rare non-malicious smile. 

“I’ve asked Lord Eridan Ampora to be your first partner this evening. He and Lady Heath will be your official escorts at the ball.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” Feferi replies, walking into through the drawing room towards the dining hall next to her aunt. The rest of the guests follow, and take their seats only after Feferi and the Queen have settled in their chairs at the immense table. 

To Feferi’s delight, she’s seated between the Prime Minister and Eridan. The PM divides his attention between flattering the Queen, and throwing murderous looks at Mr. Vantas, who is seated across the table from him, between his cousin and a certain Miss Terezi Pyrope, who seems to have made the famously fiery Vantas speechless. 

“About time someone shut that half-breed up,” mumbles Eridan between spoonfulls of soup.

“Eridan!” whispers Feferi, shocked. “Just because he’s a quarter Indian does not make him a… a half-breed. We should remember that his grandfather was a good missionary who converted his grandmother, the only daughter of a raja. Mr. Vantas is very respectable!”

“He’s still a radical,” Eridan says, shrugging. “But lets not talk politics, Fef,” he adds, seeing that Feferi is actually angry. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said.”

“You’re sorry that it made me upset, but you still think he’s filth because of who his grandmother was.”

Feferi ignores Eridan for the rest of the soup course, but by the time the veal and asparagus is served, he has her laughing and smiling, just like when they were children. When everyone has their fill of dessert, Feferi gladly takes Eridan's arm and follows her aunt into the ballroom.

The orchestra strikes up a fast-paced mazurka, and Eridan and Feferi twirl around the ballroom with dozens of other couples. The mazurka isn’t a dance that makes it easy to talk to one’s partner, but Feferi had her first dance classes with Eridan, so the two know each other’s movements well enough to talk and do the footwork.

“I’m so glad I finally get to dance with a friend,” says Feferi, deftly avoiding colliding with Lady Vriska Serket, who is being spun rather wildly around by her partner. “I’m usually trying to stop a prince from violently proclaiming his love for me.”

“Did you ever want any of them to?” Eridan asks, looking after Vriska. Feferi can’t tell if the look on his face is annoyance or curiosity. 

“No. Listening to a prince tripping over memorized lines he can barely pronounce doesn’t put me in the mood to fall madly in love with them.”

“And if the suitor was fluent?” 

“Well, I suppose I’d have to accept him!” jokes Feferi, smiling a little deviously. Eridan exhales, smiling, and the song ends. Feferi moves out of Eridan’s grasp, and joins in the applause for the orchestra. 

“You’re going to have to take me over to Lord Makara, now. I promised him a dance when I met him earlier,” she says, after dipping a slight curtsy to Eridan. He bows from the waist before replying.

“Of course. You’ll dance with me again, though, right?” Eridan sounds a bit nervous, and his smile is uneasy. 

“Of course I will!” Feferi exclaims, playfully slapping Eridan on his wrist with her fan. He straightens up, and they walk, arm in arm, over to where Lord Makara is standing on the edge of the dance floor.

As usual, Gamzee is a little distracted, but luckily the dance is slow, so Feferi doesn’t get her toes stepped on too often. Eridan is off dancing with Vriska, and he still has a look of curiosity and revilement. Feferi thinks it’s hilarious to see what she’s sure is Eridan falling in love against his will.

Feferi dances with an earl, two future dukes, and then anxiously looks around for Eridan. He’s being led out onto the floor by Vriska Serket again, but is anxiously scanning the crowd. He spots Feferi, mouthing “I’m sorry” in her direction. Feferi is a little disappointed, but she laughs and shakes her head at him. When she turns around, Mr. Karkat Vantas is standing in front of her.

“I would be honored if you would favor me with a dance, your highness,” he says, bowing slightly but maintaining eye contact with Feferi.

“Of course, Mr. Vantas,” Feferi agrees, holding out her hand so that Vantas can lead her to the dance floor.

“I think, Mr. Vantas,” remarks Feferi as the music starts up “That that’s about as formal as I’ve ever heard you.”

“Well, I’m usually yelling at someone right before I speak to you. I’m actually in a rather good mood this evening.”

“I’m glad to hear it! Does it have anything to do with the lady who sat next to you at dinner?”

“Miss Pyrope? I—“ Vantas colors, and his eyes dart over to where Miss Terezi Pyrope is sitting. She’s partially blind, but Feferi knows for a fact she can dance, if only someone would ask her. Most men assume they’re saving her from embarrassment. 

“I thought you might like her. I do get some say in the seating arrangement. She’s very smart, isn’t she?”

“Incredibly. She actually tried to lecture me on all the ways my reform bills need work.”

Vantas keeping stealing not-so-subtle glances over at Miss Pyrope, who is laughing at something Mr. Captor, who is standing next to her, whispered into her ear.

“It seems you have a rival,” Feferi remarks. She can’t believe she hasn’t tripped yet. Mr. Vantas is actually an excellent dancer. 

“Oh, no. Sollux is… Miss Pyrope isn’t his type.”

“Well, why don’t you lead me over there when this is done? You can introduce me to Mr. Captor, and then you can ask Miss Pyrope to dance.”

Karkat Vantas almost asks if Terezi can even dance, but he stops himself and smiles as the orchestra finishes. 

“I meant to talk politics with you, but I guess I’ll have to wait until the next time we meet.”

“I’m sure we’ll get the opportunity soon enough. And would you please remind your cousin to come and see me tomorrow?”

“Of course, your highness,” Vantas smiles as he leads her over to where Miss Pyrope is seated. “Do you have a partner for the next dance?”

“Lord Ampora, hopefully. He can find us.”

They stop in front of Miss Pyrope and Mr. Captor. Terezi stands up and executes a curtsy, while Mr. Captor gives Feferi a short, awkward bow.

“Your highness, may I introduce Mr. Sollux Captor?” asks Vantas. Feferi nods and holds out her hand, which Captor stares at for a second, unsure of what to do, before Terezi nudges him in the ribs. He takes Feferi’s hand, barely touching it, and kisses the air over it.

“We met earlier this evening. I saw one of your demonstrations several weeks ago at the University, and I’ve been curious to meet you ever since.”

“You were at one of my demonstrations?” Captor asks, sounding surprised and flattered.

“Yes! Unfortunately, I had an appointment to keep, so I couldn’t speak to your afterward.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Feferi watches Vantas stumble over asking Terezi for a dance. She cackles, but accepts, and Mr. Vantas begins to lead her out to the dance floor, but stops when he sees Feferi still has no partner. Sollux isn’t high ranking enough to dance with the Crown Princess, and Karkat can’t leave her unattended.

“We’ll wait until Lord Ampora comes, your highness.” Mr. Vantas tells Feferi, and Terezi nods in agreement.

“Thank you, Mr. Vantas. I don’t know where he’s gotten to,” Feferi remarks as she scans the ballroom, and fails to find Eridan. She does, however, see Gladstone, who immediately makes her way across the ballroom. 

“Lady Heath will stand with me until Lord Ampora arrives,” says Feferi to Vantas and Terezi. “You two go enjoy the dance.”

Mr. Vantas dutifully stays with Feferi until Gladstone arrives, and then takes a place on the dance floor just as the music strikes up. Feferi is left standing on the edge of the floor, next to Gladstone and in front of Mr. Captor.

“Would you care for some refreshment, your highness?” Gladstone asks, motioning towards the small side room, where punch and wine is being served.

“Oh, no I’m perfectly fine. I just need to discuss one more thing with Mr. Captor, and then I need to go find Eridan.”

Gladstone nods, and reminds Feferi that she should talk to the director of the new museum before the evening is done.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Feferi agrees before turning back to Captor. “As I said, Mr. Captor, I attended one of your demonstrations several weeks ago, and I wondered if I could arrange another one, here, at the palace? The Queen is very interested in what you’re designing, but she’s so busy she can’t get away from her ministers for very long.” 

“Oh, of course. I’m uh, at your majesty’s service,” Captor lisps, looking rather shocked. 

“Wonderful! I’ll have my private secretary arrange everything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go speak to the museum director.”

Mr. Captor bows, and Feferi is just about to nod at him and move on, when she suddenly remembers that she hasn’t seen Captor dance all evening.

“What is it, your highness?” whispers Gladstone.

Feferi studies Sollux Captor again. He’s very tall, lanky, and looks like he hasn’t quite grown into himself yet, despite being a few years older than Feferi. 

“Have you danced at all tonight, Mr. Captor?” Feferi can hear Gladstone inhale sharply. “I’m sure there are plenty of ladies here tonight-“

“Oh, no thank you, your highness. I don’t really dance,” interjects Sollux, starting to put his hands in his pockets, and then quickly taking them out again. 

“Oh, well, you’ll have to learn before you come back! I’m sure you’re disappointing many ladies tonight,” Feferi smiles, nodding her head, and walking over to where the museum director is standing on the other side of the room.

After a lively conversation with the director and several of the scientists working at the museum, Feferi excuses herself, expecting to find Gladstone and her ladies, but sees Eridan instead, hovering just out of ear range. She frowns playfully at him as he comes up to her.

“I’m so sorry, your highness, Vriska insisted that I get her a drink and-“

“Oh, it’s alright, Eridan! Just don’t do it again,” Feferi quips, slapping him with her fan again. She is a little annoyed, actually. Eridan is supposed to be escorting her around the ball, not disappearing with girls who, Feferi has to admit, are a little crazy.

“The Queen will probably get bored soon. We should dance while we can,” Feferi sighs, looking over at her aunt, who is surrounded by courtiers, but obviously not listening to any of them.

The orchestra, unfortunately, strikes up a waltz. Feferi unconsciously pouts, knowing that she can’t possibly dance so intimately with anyone until she’s actually engaged. It’s not the first time she wishes she wasn’t the crown princess.

“Why don’t we go sit down?” she proposes. Eridan offers her his arm, and they make their way to two chairs close to where the Queen is seated. 

“I notice you’re quite taken with Lady Vriska,” Feferi begins, smiling coyly at Eridan, who blushes, and pushes his fingers together.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles, twisting a gold the gold ring with his family crest on it. “She’s just… It’s hard to describe.”

“I think you’re falling in love against your will, Eridan. I watched you as I was talking with Mr. Captor, and-“

“You were talking with Captor?” Eridan interjects, suddenly alert and staring straight at her.

“Yes! He’s very interesting, if a little bit awkward. I invited him to give demonstration at the palace, for the Queen.”

“Oh.”

Feferi studies her friend, who again refuses to look her in the eye, preferring to stare at his hands.

“Eridan, what’s wrong?” Feferi sighs, rolling her eyes just a tiny bit.

“Oh, nothing I just… Remember that boy who my father insisted share my tutors?”

“The one a few years older than you who all your teachers liked- wait, that wouldn’t be Mr. Captor, would it?”

Eridan nods.

“Well, I think you’re being a bit petty, Eridan. Honestly, he never did anything to you. You’re not going to deny him your friendship and respect because of some childhood grudge?”

“Five years ago, he dared not show his face at a country ball, let alone the royal palace. And now he’s here, speaking to you, and just generally acting above his station. Didn’t you notice how long it took him to figure out how to use the silverware at dinner?”

“I’m confused by all the different forks we had on that table, and if your jealously kept everything you could from him, no wonder he doesn’t know!”

They’re arguing in hushed voices and hurried whispers, but it’s clear to anyone who’s paying attention that they’re arguing. Gladstone is doing her best to drown out the actual words by chatting loudly with some other court ladies, but several people are looking at Eridan and Feferi much too intently for her taste. Eridan is just about to reply when Feferi cuts him off.

“We can’t argue like this in public. If you want to visit tomorrow and talk, we can, but you should know that I’m embarrassed for you.”

Eridan doesn’t reply, and immediately after the orchestra finishes the waltz, the Queen stands, nods her head to the ballroom, and makes to leave. Feferi jolts up, mimicking her aunt’s motions, and is accompanied out of the ballroom by Gladstone and her ladies, leaving Eridan standing in front of his chair.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Feferi and Gladstone are alone together the next morning, the Crown Princess gets a lecture.

“You were far too familiar with Mr. Captor last night,” the older woman admonishes, stringing thread through the eye of her sewing needle.

“I didn’t actually enter into personal conversation with him, Gladstone,” Feferi quips, walking over to the window in her sitting room and looking outside. It’s going on eleven o’clock, and she hasn’t had one visitor yet. Well, not counting Professor Morton, who came to give Feferi her usual Wednesday constitutional law lesson.

“You were flirting with that man, Princess.”

Feferi doesn’t reply. She knows it’s true.

“You have good judgment, Princess. Just take care it doesn’t happen again,” Gladstone remarks, somewhat absently. She’s embroidering flowers on a pillow cover.

“It’s just… It was so nice. He wasn’t just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. Everyone else tries to flatter me, at least at first,” says Feferi, playing with a crystal that hangs by the window, manipulating it so it casts as many rainbows as possible on the opposite wall.

“I don’t think all your acquaintances behave like that, highness.”

“Oh, really? Who, then? The PM and almost all the politicians humor me when I want to talk politics, the Queen mostly ignores me, Eridan constantly apologizes for offending me, and my the ladies my aunt assigns to me are all absolutely stupid.”

“And Mr. Vantas?”

Feferi is silent for a moment before replying. “Mr. Vantas is polite, but yes, he’s never just told me what I want to hear, and then turned around and done the complete opposite.”

Feferi paces around the room. She just wants to get outside, and do something or go somewhere. If she has to stay in this palace for much longer, she’ll scream.

“I would try and maintain an easy friendship with him, highness. He’ll most likely be Prime Minister when you succeed, which may in fact be very soon.” 

Feferi stops dead in her tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘very soon’?”

Gladstone puts down her sewing. “I have been informed that Her Majesty’s doctors do not expect her to live much longer if she continues indulging as she has these past few years.”

Feferi is silent.

“The Queen eats enough each day to feed three men, and she is not young. She was almost twenty years old when your poor, dead mother was born, and forty-two when you came along. And then that whole affair with your cousin twelve years ago, and the several constitutional crises she’s been through… It ages a person, princess.”

Feferi flops down on the sofa next to Gladstone, leaning against the back.

“I think I’m entitled to some fun I give my life to my country,” she spits, turning her head away from her governess. Actually, Feferi thinks, why does she need a governess at all? She’s twenty years old, for heaven’s sake.

“Fun is not prohibited, Princess. Impropriety is.”

Feferi is about to retort when someone knocks on the door. Feferi immediately sits up straight, moving to the edge of the sofa so that no part of her is touching the back.

A page walks in, and announces that Miss Kanaya Maryam has arrived.

“Send her in,” says Gladstone, not looking up from her sewing.

Kanaya’s visit provides the morning’s entertainment. The two girls discuss last night’s ball, Kanaya’s latest trend-setting gown, some pieces of gossip, and finally some politics. Kanaya lives with her cousin, Mr. Vantas, and is always well informed. 

Kanaya leaves, and Feferi’s maids of honor come in. They seem especially dull after Kanaya, and Feferi knows for a fact that they all report back on their conversations with her to the Queen, the Prime Minister, or to both. 

The afternoon is tedious, until Feferi’s private secretary arrives to begin planning Mr. Captor’s demonstration. The Queen has offered two possible dates, and Feferi tells her secretary to invite Mr. Captor to visit her in order to decide which evening is best. Then she starts to add guests to the list provided by the Queen. 

 

Mr. Captor calls the next day, and is ushered into Feferi’s sitting room just after noon. 

“Mr. Captor!” Feferi cries, standing up as he walks over to her. Feferi involuntarily glances over at Gladstone, and sees the increasingly familiar look of disapproval.

“Your highness,” he smiles, bowing and almost sitting down in the armchair next to the sofa. He remembers that Feferi hasn’t asked him to sit, and jerks back upward.

“Would you like to sit, Mr. Captor?” Feferi laughs, motioning towards the chair. Mr. Captor chuckles, and sits down in the chair as Feferi lowers herself onto the sofa. 

“Your secretary said you had two days the Queen likes?” Captor begins, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. 

“Yes! Either the nineteenth or the twenty-first. I think the nineteenth would be best. I know it’s only a week away, but I’m- the Queen is very interested in what you’ve been working on, especially your wireless sets and the programs for the automatons.”

“I have plans on the nineteenth,” Captor states simply, frowning slightly after struggling to pronounce the last word.

“Oh, well, that’s not a problem at all. I’ll just have to wait until the twenty-first to have my curiosity satisfied!” Feferi conceded. “Now, you have to tell me who you want there. You shouldn’t have to present to a room full of only strangers!”

“You’re not a stranger,” Captor remarks, blushing as he realizes that the comment was just a bit too forward. Feferi’s freckled cheeks turn pink, but she manages to laugh.

“I should hope not! I mean, any of your friends who-“

“Her Highness should remember that the Queen must approve of any guests,” interjects Gladstone from her seat in the corner. 

“Oh, uh, of course, Gladstone,” Feferi amends before turning back to Captor, who’s eyebrows are furrowed and who’s mouth is set in a slight frown. “I know you’re friendly with Mr. Vantas and Miss Pyrope, and I’ve already added them to the list, but if there’s anyone else…”

“No, the Queen wouldn’t approve of most of my friends,” Captor admits, sitting up a little straighter and rolling his eyes. 

“Is there any particular food you like? I’m planning on a small reception afterwards.”

“Uh, there’s some sort of cake with honey in it. I don’t know what it’s called, but the cook at the big house I grew up near used to make it and-“

“You mean Mrs. Clark’s honey cake!” exclaims Feferi, beaming. 

“How did you know that?” Captor puzzles.

“Eridan and I were best friends when we were younger. We still are, in actually, but anyway, I used to visit him and Mrs. Clark always used to make me her honey cake, and when I came here I asked her to send the recipe so that the cook here could make it.”

Captor is smiling now, and chuckles to himself.

“My father was the estate manager for Eridan’s father. I used to go up to the big house and ask for pieces of it.”

“And once Eridan started sharing his tutors with you, I’m sure you had it a lot more often!”

Captor looks surprised, and then shrugs. “Eridan doesn’t like to share, so once he found out how much I liked it, he never asked for it.”

“That is absolutely Eridan,” Feferi snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’ll have all you can eat of it and more on the twenty-first, I promise.”

Mr. Captor thanks Feferi profusely, and asks her if she’s been back to Eridan’s house since she came to the capital. Feferi hasn’t, and the two reminisce about the bannister that was the perfect inkling for sliding down, the gardens filled with all types of flowers, the woods on the edge of the grounds… Feferi is showing some of her paintings of what she remembers of the pond when a footman steps in and announces that Eridan is here to see her. 

“Oh, show him in!” Feferi exclaims, setting one of her paintings down on the table and bouncing towards the door as the footman leaves. When Eridan comes in, he can only take two steps into the room before he’s standing right in front of her. He looks thoughtful and a little frustrated at something, but seeing Feferi light up even more in front of him brings a smile to his own face.

“Your highness,” he says, and Feferi can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Eridan! Why didn’t you come yesterday?” cries Feferi. She’s mostly forgiven him for his remarks at the ball, and she misses him. 

“My father kept me from going out, Fef, I’m sorry.”

Feferi nods, and tells Eridan she’s just glad he came. Eridan is about to say something in reply when Gladstone gives a very audible cough from the corner. Eridan looks over at her, confused for a moment, until he sees Captor standing by the work table near where Gladstone is sitting, Feferi’s paintings laid out for him. 

“Sollux,” Eridan says tersely. 

“Lord Ampora,” Sollux replies, dipping his head.

“Mr. Captor stopped by to talk about the demonstration he’s giving for the Queen. I’ve scheduled it for the twenty-first, so you better not have anywhere else to be,” laughs Feferi, poking Eridan playfully in the ribs. Eridan smiles at the jab, but a frown quickly replaces it.

“You’re inviting me?” he asks, surprised.

“Of course I’m inviting you! I invite you to everything, don’t I?” 

“I just thought that Sollux might not want me there,” Eridan replies, giving Sollux a hard look. 

“I think it’s you who doesn’t want me here,” Captor quips, crossing his arms.

“You’re both here as my guests, and I can kick you out just as easily as I invited you!” reminds Feferi, almost stomping her foot on the ground. 

Mr. Captor looks chastised, and Eridan nods and looks sorry. Somewhat satisfied, Feferi leads Eridan over to the table covered with her paintings, and he enthusiastically compares them to some of her earlier works.

“I still have one at home that you made by smearing paint on the canvas with your fingers,” Eridan says, holding up a very well executed landscape. He studies it for a moment before adding: “I think I like the one I have better.”

“You just like it because I gave it to you,” Feferi scoffs, remembering how much fun it was to paint with her hands. She’s hasn’t done it since Gladstone taught her how to hold a brush, though.

“No, I mean… I think it has more of you in it,” Eridan amends, looking back up at Feferi. 

“Oh.”

Mr. Captor leaves soon afterwards, and Gladstone calls for tea to be brought in. Feferi sits down on the sofa, and Eridan joins her. 

“Why do you have to be so rude to Mr. Captor?” Feferi asks as soon as he settles himself. 

“Fef, do we really have to talk about this?”

“Yes! Now answer my questions!”

Eridan sighs, rubbing his temples as he answers. 

“He just shouldn’t be here, Fef. You and I, we’re… We’re royalty. Our families have held power for hundreds of years, and his great-grandfather was just a tenant farmer. His family has never owned land, and now all of a sudden men like him want the vote, and he ignores everything this nation was built on!”

“Men like him. He’s a human being, just like you, why shouldn’t he vote! Why shouldn’t he have a say in how his country is run?”

“They don’t know how things are done. Next thing you know they’ll want women to vote, and-“

“I’m a woman, Eridan! And I’m going to run this country one day!”

“You’re different, Fef, you’re-“

“Children!” whispers Gladstone as someone timidly knocks on the door. After a moment, a maid enters with the tea tray, and Gladstone comes and sits with Feferi and Eridan. The sharp-eyed spinster keeps the conversation to the weather, and the latest automaton designs. Feferi and Eridan join in occasionally, but Gladstone mostly chats at them. Finally, she sighs, stands up, and walks to the door.

“I am going to step into the hall for five minutes. I will be just outside the door. Kindly resolve your differences before I return.”

Gladstone exits, her skirts rustling as she leaves. The door closes with a gentle click, and Eridan instantly starts apologizing.

“Feferi, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like what I have to say, but it’s what I think, and I’ve never been anything but honest with you.”

“You’re just sorry that I’m angry,” spits Feferi, her voice filled with venom. 

“Yes, I am. Fef, you’re my oldest friend, my… my dearest friend, and nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy, and nothing makes me more depressed than seeing you unhappy,” he proclaims, moving his hand over Feferi’s on the sofa.

“The problem, Eridan, is that you, out of everyone I know, make me both the happiest and the angriest. It’s either one or the other, and lately, you’ve been making me more angry than happy.”

Eridan looks hurt and guilty, and Feferi glimpses a few tears welling up in his eyes. She doesn’t even care anymore.

“Just go. I’ll let you know if I want to see you before the demonstration.”

Eridan opens his mouth to retort, but he shuts it, and nods slowly, rising up from the sofa. He walks towards the door, and is about to turn the doorknob to leave, but he suddenly turns around.

“Everything I’ve said, and everything I’ve done, is to try and keep you safe. You may not realize it, but what your favorite engineer and his politician friends are doing is eventually going to knock you or your aunt off the throne. And, more likely than not, neither of you will survive if that happens.”

Feferi looks at him from her position on the sofa, and manages an “Eridan, what do you-“ before he strides out the door and Gladstone glides back in.

Feferi doesn’t ask Gladstone what Eridan meant. She’s too tired and still seeing red from her argument. She informs her governess that she wants to go to bed early, and that she won’t take any supper. Gladstone just nods, and kindly leaves Feferi alone in her bedroom after the maid has undressed her. 

Feferi’s bed is piled high with pillows, and her mattress, as always, feels like lying on a cloud. But she spends most of the night tossing and turning, and doesn’t fall asleep until the wee hours.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Feferi asks Gladstone to tell her what exactly Eridan meant. Her governess finishes buttering her piece of toast, and sets it primly on her plate before answering.

“He’s exaggerating, my dear. You know how he can be,” she answers, picking her toast back up and taking a bite. 

“Not like this. There’s something I don’t know, that people aren’t telling me, and I’d rather hear it from you than from someone else.”

Gladstone considers this for a minute, and then nods slowly. “Leave us,” she sharply tells the footman standing near the sideboard, He bows, and exits.

“In short, the Liberal Party is gaining support, especially in the cities and factory towns. The problem is that there are no set rules for voting districts, so a city of over one-hundred thousand may have one representative, while a district in the country may have only two hundred people to one representative in Parliament. The Liberals also want to change the laws to allow more men to vote.”

“So the Liberal Party, and cities, are underrepresented in Parliament?”

“Yes. Living conditions in many areas have also taken a turn for the worse, and unemployment is high in rural areas.”

“Why isn’t anyone doing anything!?”

“The conservative party would lose control of Parliament if reforms were introduced. The Queen is also hesitant to initiate reforms, since they might curtail her own power.”

Feferi is quiet for a moment. How could all this be going on without her knowledge? How could her aunt ignore the needs of her own people? How could politicians expect her to give up some of her powers, especially when her ancestors had ruled the country successfully for almost a thousand years? Was Eridan right after all?

“Why was I not informed of this?” Feferi finally asks.

“You never asked, and the Queen requested that we not tell you unless you did.”

Feferi sighs, slumping down in her chair and crossing her arms. 

“Gladstone, from now on I will have newspapers on this table each morning. I’d like the papers with the largest subscriptions, as well as the most prominent liberal and conservative papers.”

Gladstone smiles. “Of course, your highness.”

Feferi straightens herself in her chair, and stirs and extra sugar cube into her tea. 

“Would you kindly ask Miss Kanaya Maryam and Miss Terezi Pyrope to join me in a carriage drive this afternoon?” she requests.

“Of course, your highness.”

Feferi spends the rest of the morning going through Gladstone’s own collection of newspapers, which go back almost two years. Gladstone admits that the paper she subscribes to certainly leans left, but assures Feferi that she can get good, reliable information from it. Gladstone gets the paper to learn what’s going on, not to rally herself into a political frenzy. 

 

At two o’clock sharp, Feferi and Gladstone’s steam-powered carriage pulls up in front of Miss Maryam’s well-appointed townhouse, where she lives with her cousin, Karkat Vantas. As soon as the carriage sputters to a stop, the door to the house is thrown open by a clockwork automaton, and Kanaya, wearing an absolutely gorgeous green-and-black ensemble that includes a delicate black lace veil hanging from her hat, strides out, followed by Terezi, her cane extended out in front of her. One of Feferi’s footmen leaps down from his position on the back of the carriage, opens the door, and helps the two ladies in. They settle in the seats across from Feferi and Gladstone, and Kanaya lifts her veil before speaking.

“Thank you for inviting us to join you today, your highness,” she begins as the carriage jolts back on its way. “I am sorry we didn’t tell you beforehand that Terezi was coming over. We thought it would be much more convenient if you fetched us from the same place.”

Feferi loves how Kanaya speaks. Every word is enunciated perfectly, which makes it sound like each is chosen with great care and consideration. 

“Thank you both for coming,” Feferi smiles back at them. “I thought we could drive out to the Heath, and get out of the city for a bit.”

Terezi and Kanaya nod in agreement.

“I also… wanted a private place to speak to you both,” Feferi admits, sitting up even straighter in her seat. The carriage is inching along in the traffic going out of the capital, and Feferi can see people on the sidewalks starting to notice the royal crest on the carriage doors. She doesn’t want to crank the top down and wave to the people because of the soot that permeates the air, but she may have to if the traffic persists. 

“About what, your highness?” asks Terezi, crossing her legs in a rather unladylike fashion. Out of the corner of her eye, Feferi can see Gladstone grimace.

“You’re probably going to think me a simpleton, but I’ve hardly left the palace, or gone anywhere that wasn’t pre-approved by the Queen, since I first came to the capitol twelve years ago. Because of this, and because of my own self-imposed ignorance, I have been completely unaware of the current political situation, and the suffering of my own people.”

“It’s common knowledge across the country that the Queen keeps you on a very tight leash, your highness,” offers Kanaya, leaning forward. “You shouldn’t blame yourself as much as you do.”

“Don’t flatter her. She didn’t invite us here for that,” admonishes Terezi, playfully swatting Kanaya’s knee.

“No, I did not. I invited you because I need your help.”

“You want us to keep you informed?” asks Kanaya.

“Yes, I do. Terezi, you know the law better than anyone, and you are certainly the only person at court who will give me a straight answer. I need you to keep me informed about all the bills passing through Parliament. What they mean, what are their goals, who supports them, and anything else you know that will be useful. I’d also like you to attend my weekly lessons on Constitutional law.”

“You basically want me to tell you what’s legal and what isn’t, your highness,” Terezi answers, cackling softly. 

Feferi sighs. “Yes. I’m in way over my head and I need your help.”

“What if your royal highness doesn’t agree with the conclusions I come to?”

“If you dislike helping me, you are free to stop at any time.”

Terezi considers this for a moment, steadying herself as the carriage transfers from paving stone to a more bumpy country road. Factories are starting to give way to fields, and Feferi can see mechanical reapers and threshers in the distance, belching steam as they trudge through fields of clover.

“I’ll help you, your highness. I assume you want me to be your eyes and ears in court as well?” she mocks, smiling maniacally.

Feferi sends her a snide smile. “We both know that people underestimate you.”

“No one ever suspects the blind girl,” Terezi laughs, and even the stoic Gladstone smiles. 

“I guess that you’d like me to keep my eyes and ears open as well?” asks Kanaya once Terezi quiets down.

“Yes, but I also have another task for you,” Feferi confides, lowering her voice even more. “As you know, I cannot voice my own political opinions, especially when most are in opposition to the Queen’s,” she pauses, remembering the stories in the paper that talked about her aunt’s reluctance to introduce reform. 

“I believe that if my aunt continues to resist reform, her own worst fears will come true. She’ll be forced to give up some, if not all of her powers. If she acts now, she can head off the crisis, and keep most of her powers. Of course, I can’t tell her this myself, because she doesn’t listen to me. She does, however, meet with Mr. Vantas occasionally.”

Kanaya arches an eyebrow, and Feferi continues. 

“I support your cousin in his efforts to reform, and I want you to assure him that he has my complete support,” Feferi confides, leaving forward and speaking in a hushed tone. “He’s not persuading the Queen effectively, though. He needs to frame his argument less in respect towards representation and rights, and more around what it means for the Queen, and the future of the monarchy.”

Kanaya smiles as Feferi leans back.

“But Karkat wants to diminish the Queen’s power,” Kanaya informs Feferi, her eyebrow still arched. 

“Yes, I know,” Feferi sighs, thinking about Vantas’ ‘progressive’ ideas. “He needs to choose his battles. He’ll never get the Queen to agree to cede even the most trivial of her powers if he attaches it to voting and representation reform.”

“But if he gets all the reforms he wants, eventually the Queen will have to cede certain powers. She’ll also lose most of her influence in Parliament almost immediately,” Terezi points out, still smiling.

“That may be, but if we don’t resolve representation and voting now, there may not even be a monarch to cede powers. And I know it’s in Karkat’s best interests to keep the crown in place, especially if you’re going to succeed the throne, your highness,” Kanaya affirms, looking out the window at the rolling countryside. They’re almost to the Heath, and Feferi is getting anxious to stretch her legs. She hates sitting anywhere for too long.

“Exactly. Will you let your cousin know?” Feferi asks again, looking directly at Kanaya.

“Of course, highness,” Kanaya agrees, chuckling a bit.

“Wonderful. Now we can enjoy the view,” Feferi beams, rapping her fist on the back of the carriage. One of the footmen pulls down the window, and asks her what she needs.

“Tell Jameson to stop at the bottom of the hill. I want to walk up,” Feferi says in her most commanding voice.

“Of course, your highness,” he replies, refastening the window and yelling up at the driver.

Feferi, Kanaya, and Terezi climb the Hill, famous for its view of the capital to the south, and the countryside to the north. Factory smokestacks dot the city, and create a permanent layer of black soot over the buildings, discoloring even the white dome of the city’s largest cathedral. The north looks much more pleasant, and Feferi is seized by a sudden, intense desire to go home. Not back to the palace, but to the country estate where she spent most of her childhood. 

They pull back up to Kanaya’s house right as the cathedral clock strikes five, and the carriage has barely stopped when Mr. Vantas bounds out the door, slowing himself when he sees the footman climbing down.

To Feferi’s delight, he only detains her briefly with the most basic of pleasantries, focusing most of his attention on Miss Pyrope, who he helps down from the carriage after his cousin. Kanaya and Feferi exchange amused looks as Feferi makes her farewells, and Vantas and Terezi barely pay attention to her.

Feferi pulls her hat off as soon as she steps over the threshold of the palace, tearing up the stairs towards her apartments. She flings open doors herself, and throws her hat and gloves down on the sofa on the way to her desk, pulling out her stationary and pen and writing a quick note.

By the time Gladstone walks in after her, Feferi is sealing the wax on the envelope, and meets Gladstone halfway across the room.

“Could you have this delivered to Eridan, please? Right away. I need to see him tonight.”

“Surely whatever your highness is planning can wait until the morning?” Gladstone asks, eyeing the letter skeptically.

“It cannot. I’ll wait up all night if I have to, and no one has to know he’s coming.”

Gladstone still doesn’t take the letter, and Feferi is getting rather tired of holding out in front of her. 

“If he gets it within the next hour, he can come for supper, and there won’t be anything wrong at all,” Feferi pushes.

Gladstone sighs, smiles, and takes the letter. She returns fifteen minutes later, when Feferi has finished changing out of her traveling outfit into one of her more informal dresses.

Gladstone changes clothes, and Feferi paces back and forth in front of the windows in her sitting room, looking for any sign of Eridan in the darkening courtyard below. 

A maid brings tea in, but Feferi doesn’t touch any of it. Gladstone sits calmly in her chair, sipping and working on some needlework, and her serene attitude only serves to make Feferi more anxious. It’s only a couple of blocks to Eridan’s house; it takes more time to prepare a carriage to go out than it does to walk there from the palace.

Fifteen minutes pass, the thirty, then an hour, and Feferi refuses to sit down. Gladstone tempts her with tea, biscuits, books, and even offers to get Feferi’s colored pencils from the other room, to no avail. 

After over an hour of pacing back and forth and Gladstone warning her about wearing through the carpet, Feferi hears the clatter of steam carriage wheels in the courtyard, and looks out to see the small two-seater that Eridan drives sputtering to a stop below her. Eridan leaps out of the carriage, and looks up at Feferi’s window as he straightens his hat. Feferi waves enthusiastically, and Eridan beams, waving back and rushing inside. 

Feferi refuses to sit down and is still standing by the window when the page announces Eridan.

“You wanted to see me, Fef?” he asks as soon as the door closes. The page had taken his hat and gloves, and Feferi can see that Eridan is wearing his glasses. 

“Yes, I did,” she replies, motioning him to come stand by the window with her. Eridan walks over, tripping slightly on a chair leg.

“I thought about what you said last night,” Feferi begins, lowering her voice so that Gladstone has a hard time hearing her. “And I’ve decided that I do need to take a more… proactive approach to protecting Her Majesty’s position and my future powers.”

“So you’ll stop mixing with filth like-“

“No. Let me finish,” she says crossly, giving Eridan a look. He nods, and Feferi continues. “I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way we can preserve most of our powers is by sponsoring reform. Make representation more equitable, and expand the vote, that’s all.”

“Otherwise,” Feferi continues when she doesn’t get a reaction from Eridan, “It will be like you said. There won’t be a monarchy to protect.”

“I’ve already spoken to Miss Kanaya Maryam and Miss Terezi Pyrope, whom I’ve convinced to persuade Mr. Vantas to downsize his reforms. I can’t act directly, not while my position goes against the Queen’s, but I have to try. Can you promise me that you’ll try and convince your friends in the conservative party to accept some more moderate reforms?”

“I’ll do anything to protect you, Fef, but I don’t think this is going to work. The only way to keep you in power is to stop the reforms,” Eridan maintains, crossing his arms.

“If we do that, there will be a revolution, and people will die, Eridan. And not just some commoners who you think are beneath your notice. You’ll go back to your ship lead sailors to march on mobs and get shot, or a mob could seize Lady Vriska’s carriage and throw her into the river, just like the mobs did on the continent ten years ago. Eridan, this will only end badly!” Feferi insists, tears welling in her eyes.

“Fef, Fef… Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry because of me,” Eridan pleads, resting his hand on Feferi’s arm near her shoulder. His touch is surprisingly warm, and Feferi wants to inch closer to him. How can Eridan make her so happy and so sad at the same time?

“I’m crying because I’m sad and angry,” Feferi pronounces, not moving away from Eridan but not going any closer, either. “I’m trying to preserve my throne and look after my people, but when I try to compromise, you just tell me I’m all wrong, and that the only way to fix this is by killing my subjects and my friends!”

Feferi is almost a foot shorter than Eridan, but at that moment she feels ten times as tall. Eridan doesn’t revert to the sheepish, apologetic face he takes on whenever Feferi is angry with him. He knits his eyebrows together as he thinks, and it takes Feferi a moment to notice that’s he’s absently stroking her arm with two of his fingers. He notices almost immediately after she does, and blushes as he pulls his hand away. 

“Maybe you are right,” he concedes, straightening his glasses on his face. 

“Then you’ll help me?” Feferi demands.

“Yes, of course. I still don’t think it’ll work, but we can do our damndest to make sure it does.”

“Lord Ampora!” Gladstone chided from the couch.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this works, Fef, I promise,” Eridan amends, looking hopefully at Feferi.

“Thank you, Eridan,” Feferi smiles back at him. “Now, I hope you don’t have anywhere else to be. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I’m starving,” Feferi takes his hand and starts to lead him towards the sofa. 

“Actually, Fef, I-“

“You… You have to be somewhere?” Feferi stops in her tracks, her finger just intertwining with Eridan’s. Eridan’s never turned down spending time with her, and Feferi isn’t sure how much she likes this new romance of his. 

“Yes, I um… I’m supposed to be at the Dowager Marquise Mindfang’s at eight, and I need to…” he mumbles, playing with his signet ring.

“Oh, and you still need to get ready,” Feferi says, looking at Eridan, who’s wearing an old suit and his favorite blue scarf, despite it being late August, and hardly looks ready to attend a dinner party. Especially one given by the mother of the girl he’s falling for. 

“Yeah, I do, but… I can’t miss this, but maybe I can come see you tomorrow?” he asks hurriedly, closing some of the gap between him and Feferi. All Feferi can do is stare blankly at him for a moment. 

“Oh, of course!” she says, shaking her head. “Go have fun, and tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“I will,” he promises, managing a half smile. He doesn’t make any moves to leave, though.

“I’ll expect you bright and early, so don’t stay out too late,” Feferi finally says, holding out her hand. Eridan chuckles, takes her hand, and kisses the air above it before finally leaving. He waves up at Feferi one last time before he climbs into his carriage and drives away.

The Queen sends the maids of honor to keep Feferi company (read: spy on her) during dinner, and Feferi does her best not to mention Eridan, Lady Vriska Serket, or how much she hopes Vriska will spill soup all over herself. 

She fails. At least she doesn’t mention the soup.


	4. Chapter 4

True to his promise, Eridan shows up almost before Feferi is even finished with breakfast, and stays until just before dinner. To Feferi’s delight, it seems Lady Vriska Serket spent the entire evening basically ignoring Eridan, talking instead to a young, rich heir who had only just arrived in the capital. Strangely, Eridan didn’t seem too upset about it.

“But I thought you wanted to court her?” Feferi poses as they walk through the palace gardens. 

“I did?” Eridan balks, turning towards her and looking a bit bemused.

“Yes! You danced with her all throughout the last ball here, and you made such a point to go to that dinner last night!”

“Oh. I, uh, don’t know actually. I mean, I admire her, but it’s not in a way I’d want to… Marry her or anything. I think we’d kill each other, if we did.”

Feferi laughs, relieved, for some reason. She spots the fish pond ahead, squeals in delight, and skips ahead, Eridan laughing and running after her. 

“Do you remember that fish you got me for my eighth birthday?” Feferi asks, kneeling down as far as her skirts will allow and putting her fingers in the water. Several of the fish in the pond swim up to investigate the disturbance, and bump gently into Feferi’s long fingers. 

“Yes, I do,” Eridan replies, kneeling down next to her. “Do you still have it?”

“Yes, I do,” Feferi says, stroking one of the fish. If she were a man, and not a princess, Feferi always thought she’d like to study fish. What were those people called, again?

“I used to play with it here,” she continues, jumping out of her reverie. “I would wind it up on one end, then race it to catch it at the other,” she says, gesturing at either side of the very large pond. 

“I forgot that the Queen didn’t let anyone in the capital come and play with you,” Eridan admitted, dipping his hand into the water. 

“We can play now!” Feferi cries, turning her attention away from the fish and back to Eridan. “Unless you’re too old for such childish nonsense, Lord Ampora.”

“Never!” Eridan exclaims, removing his hand from the water and flicking it in Feferi’s face. She squeals and laughs, then stands up and has one the attending maids of honor go and fetch her old toy.

The gears are almost rusted together, and most of the paint has flaked off, but Feferi could still make out how pretty the blue and purple paint look together. She takes the silver key, which Gladstone had taken care to polish over the years, and winds the toy up, setting it in the water as soon as Eridan has taken his place at the opposite end of the pond. 

They don’t talk much; just laugh when their aim is off or when the fish goes spiraling off in the opposite direction of where it’s been pointed. Gladstone settles on a stone bench near the pool and takes out a book, and Feferi’s maids on honor prefer to stand around and watch, not sure whether to look bemused or to start twisting the entire event into something gossip-worthy. No one dares interrupt Feferi and Eridan, though.

Storm clouds move in with the afternoon, and eventually, the fish begins to move more and more slowly, until it just stops and sinks in the middle of the pond.

“Blast!” mutters Eridan under his breath, so that no one else can hear. Feferi does, though, and giggles. 

“It’s just a little water, Eridan. I’m going to wade in and get it, but you have to turn around so you don’t see my ankles,” Feferi says, winking, standing up and bunching her skirts in her hands.

Eridan laughs, and doesn’t turn around until Gladstone suddenly appears behind Feferi to give him a hard look. He blushes, and penitently turns around, his shoulder hunched. Feferi just laughs again, and is about to wade into the pond when the sky gives a huge clap of thunder, and the clouds above them start pouring down rain. The mains of honor shriek and run frantically towards the palace, and Gladstone runs after them, shouting that they cannot just leave the princess. 

Gladstone only goes a few dozen feet before she turns around, but it’s enough time for both Feferi and Eridan to dash into the pond and reach for the toy fish at exactly the same time. They laugh in unison, and Eridan takes Feferi’s hand as they wade out, their already soaking clothes weighing them down. Gladstone keeps a careful eye on them as they run awkwardly back to the palace, getting splattered with mud and grass every step of the way. When they get back to the warm heat of the Feferi’s sitting room fireplace, Eridan is forced to leave. He doesn’t have a space change of clothes, and he can hardly expect to sit on a sofa in the palace wet through. He and Feferi reluctantly exchange goodbyes, and Feferi waves to him out her window as he drives away.

The next week and a half is quietly busy as Feferi prepares for Mr. Captor’s demonstration, reads Constitutional law and her papers each morning, and gets regular visits from Eridan, Kanaya, and Terezi. While she enjoys their company, she wishes they brought better news. Both Mr. Vantas and all of Eridan’s contacts within the conservative party are proving difficult to persuade. Everyone has entrenched themselves, and Feferi can’t help but worry. The price of bread is getting higher, and wages aren’t keeping up. Despite a surplus of grain, no one can buy it because of the excessive taxes. Unemployment is still high, farm workers are destroying the machines that have taken their jobs, and factory workers are threatening to strike if conditions don’t improve.

Despite all this, the Queen insists that Mr. Captor’s demonstration go ahead, despite Feferi’s delicate suggestions that perhaps it should be put off until the crisis is resolved. The Queen, however, is set on having her demonstration, so Feferi reluctantly continues preparations.

 

The evening is absolutely scorching as the guests file into the palace’s main drawing room just after six o’clock. Mr. Captor’s demonstration is to be followed by a light supper, as it’s too hot to think of eating anything heavy. There are only about seventy guests, but the room is still baking hot, even with the windows open. 

Feferi does the receiving line mechanically until Mr. Vantas enters with Kanaya. Kanaya just barely shrugs at Feferi as Vantas bows to her, and moves quickly to the Queen. Kanaya curtsies, and she and Kanaya sigh at each other. Eridan is announced not long after, and he at least gives Feferi a reassuring smile as he bows and kisses the air closest to her hand. 

Once everyone has gone through the line, Feferi and the Queen walk side-by-side into the small crowd. Mr. Captor is busy fussing over the machines he’s brought with him, but no one really seems to be paying attention to him. The crowd has polarized into two very distinct groups. Feferi sees this and feels nervous; her aunt sees this and smiles. 

Her aunt waddles to her over-gilded chair, gathers her voluptuous skirts, and sits. She calls for the Prime Minister and Lord Orphaner, Eridan’s father, to take seats on either side of her, leaving Feferi to take the seat on the sofa next to Lord Orphaner’s chair. It’s a slight, and everyone knows it, to both Feferi and Mr. Vantas, and Feferi finds herself wondering if the Queen found out about her behind-the-scenes-maneuvering. 

She can’t worry about that now, though, because her aunt is staring very pointedly at her, waiting to see whom Feferi will select to sit beside her on the sofa. The entire room is silent, and the open windows aren’t providing any breeze or relief from the heat.

“Lady Heath, would you please ask Miss Pyrope to join me?” Feferi finally whispers to her governess, who disappears back into the crowd to return with Terezi. The air in the room is still thick with tension, though, even if it appears that the Princess was only being polite in inviting the partially blind girl to sit up front with her. 

Once Terezi is settled, the Queen thanks all her guests for attending, and thanks Mr. Captor for coming to demonstrate his latest inventions. Captor begins his demonstrations, showing a working model of a zeppelin, his wireless radio, and the newest models of automatons, which include a lady’s maid and footmen. The crowd is suitably awed: until quite recently, automatons had only been able to perform simple tasks. Now, thanks to Captor, you could buy one that new the latest hair styles, and tell where you were standing. 

Feferi can’t pay attention. The Queen, the PM, and Lord Orphaner keep giving her snide looks out of the corners of their eyes, and have pointedly excluded all of the liberal politicians from having any sort of view of the demonstration. The only clue she has that the demonstration has ended is the loud round of applause that the Queen leads.

Feferi stands as the Queen does, and the princess watches the Queen and the conservative politicians swoop in round Captor, pointedly excluding everyone else. 

“Fef?” whispers a voice in her ear, and Feferi doesn’t need to turn around to know that Eridan is standing behind her, and not joining his father. Even Lord Makara has reluctantly drifted over to his own father’s bloc. 

“This is a disaster,” Feferi whispers, her voice trembling. Tears are starting to well in her eyes, and all she wants is for the night to be over with.

“Keep your head up, dearest,” whispers Gladstone, who also seems to be standing behind her. Feferi swallows her tears, straightens up, and proceeds to walk towards where Mr. Vantas is standing, encircled by some of the more prominent liberal politicians.

“Your highness,” he says as she approaches, and the entire circle bows. 

“A fascinating demonstration, don’t you think?” inquires Feferi, noticing how Vantas and the others eye Eridan suspiciously. 

“Of course. Mr. Captor and I were at university together, and he never fails to amaze me.”

“I’m impressed that Mr. Captor knows exactly what to improve, and what he leaves untouched. His speech about how automatons will never be able to quite replace real soldiers was quite enlightening, don’t you think?”

“Umm, yes, your highness,” Vantas replies, not sure where the conversation seems to be headed.

“I quite agree with him. While some things can always be approved upon, I think at least some respect for tradition will always guide the best of decisions.”

Vantas raises his eyebrows, and is about to open his mouth to reply when Lord Orphaner comes up behind Feferi.

“You highness, the Queen requests your company,” he smirks, his eyes darting between Feferi, Eridan, and Vantas. Eridan carefully avoids his father’s eye.

“Oh, thank, Lord Orphaner,” bubbles Feferi, determined not to show how nervous she is. “I was just talking with Mr. Vantas about some of our most honored traditions. Perhaps that is a topic you can continue?”

And without waiting for a reply, she turns around and glides over to where her aunt is standing. 

“You requested me, your majesty?” asks Feferi, sinking to her knees before the Queen.

“Yes, I did,” her aunt replies in her deepest, most imperious voice, which has always struck Feferi with fear whenever it was used. “I don’t want you conversing with Mr. Vantas, he’s-“

At that moment, the butler enters the room, and announces that dinner is served. 

Feferi is seated far down the table, between Eridan and a whey-faced maid of honor. She doesn’t touch her food at all. 

When dinner ends, the entire party makes its way back to the drawing room, where coffee is served. Feferi absently stirs her cup, letting it get far too cool to drink. She begins to calm down, though, as she sees Mr. Vantas and his number two in Parliament having a discussion with the PM, Lord Orphaner, and the Queen. Everyone in the room notices, but pretends not to, and guests slowly begin to leave. 

All Feferi’s hopes are dashed when the group starts shouting.

“No, I will not go any further than that! It’s already less than what this country needs, and less than what the people deserve. You’ve gotten rich off of exploiting them. Now it’s time you show them a little gratitude!” cries Vantas, his voice ringing through the entire room. 

“I will not let you stand here, in the Queen’s own home, and destroy what has led this country to riches and success over the past one thousand years!” shoots back the Prime Minister.

“Only because you’ve slaughtered anyone who tried to actually change things! Complete power in the hands of one person… It’s madness!” 

“What you are proposing would end the monarchy all together!” Lord Orphaner replies. 

The fighting goes on, and soon the only guests left are Feferi, Eridan, Gladstone, and the rest of the politicians. 

“I don’t want to end the crown, I want to save it!” Vantas moans. “If your majesty doesn’t enact reforms now, there won’t be a monarchy to protect!”

Feferi has moved to a window by this time, desperate to get some air. She’s the one who spots the crowd approaching the palace. 

“Eridan,” she squeaks, pointing outside. Eridan follows her gaze, and turns pale.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing Feferi’s hand before wading into the crowd. He eventually makes it to his father, and manages to whisper the news into his ear.

“Silence!” Lord Orphaner booms, moving towards the window where Feferi is standing. He brushes past her, and looks out at the mass of people approaching.

“Word must have gotten out that what we’re discussing,” he proclaims. Feferi can hear the mob chanting something, but she can’t make it out. “And a mob is headed towards the palace.”

Instantly, everyone in the room jumps into action. Lord Orphaner and the PM bustle the Queen out of the drawing room, and order all but a few of the palace guards to the tall iron fence around the palace. Several of the liberal politicians shout about how they’re about to be proven right, and the room is soon deserted except for Feferi, Eridan, and Gladstone. 

“Move away from the window, Feferi,” Gladstone commands, taking hold of Feferi’s wrist and pulling her back. Still holding Feferi’s wrist, Gladstone breaks into a run, and Feferi clasps onto Eridan’s hand, pulling him along with her. The three rush back to Feferi’s apartments, where Gladstone shutters and locks all the windows. 

Gladstone frantically rings the servants’ bell, but nobody comes. Finally, Gladstone gives up, cursing the servants and the guards and the politicians, before turning around to Feferi and Eridan. 

“Lord Ampora, do you have bullets for that pistol?” she asks, gesturing towards the silver revolver that Eridan carries. It’s the latest fashion craze.

“Yes,” taking the weapon out of his holster and opening it to reveal two bullets.

“Good. Now, I’m going to the servant’s quarters to find us some clothes we can sneak out in case the mob breaks in. You two dirty your faces with that ash from the fireplace, and Feferi, change into whatever you have that’s simplest. If I’m not back in twenty minutes barricade the door and hide under your bed.”

All Feferi and Eridan can do is nod, and Gladstone gives Feferi a quick kiss on the head before running out of the room.

Feferi creeps closer to the window. Even through the shutters, she can hear the crowd rattling at the iron fence. Thirty minutes pass, and Gladstone doesn’t return. At forty, Eridan barricades the door. He strips out of his dinner jacket and bow tie and hides them under the sofa cushions. After he unfastens the tops four buttons on his shirt, he could pass for a well-dressed servant.

Feferi isn’t so lucky. He simplest dress is still too voluminous to pass for even a member of the middle classes, and it’s black, and a size too small. She can barely breathe. 

An hour after Gladstone leaves, Feferi hears shots fired, and the mob goes wild. She hears guards in the courtyard yell that people have begun to scale the fence. More shots. Feferi hears glass breaking close by.

“I just saw one go through that window!” cries a guard.

“Eridan, we have to move!” says Feferi. They’re too close to the action. They need to be higher up if they’re going to be safe.

They make for the grand staircase, hoping to find at least one guard, or someone who can tell them where to go, or where Gladstone is. But they see no one. They can’t even get to the main staircase: it’s been blocked off. 

“We can go up the servants’ staircase. This way,” Feferi decides, taking off down another corridor, Eridan beside her. They wind their way through the seemingly endless corridors, trying to reach the staircase. Feferi gets lost twice, unsure about where it is and ready to collapse in fear. 

They turn a corner, and come see a man running towards them. As soon as he sees them, he slows, but starts to run again, screaming something about his brother who died in a massacre up north and he’s raising a dull, rusty file above his head and oh god Feferi can smell the alcohol on his breath even from here but she can’t move she’s frozen where she is and that man is still coming toward her.

Eridan fires his gun. The bullet zooms out of the barrel, and hits its mark. 

A dead man lies at Feferi’s feet, blood oozing from his temple.


	5. Chapter 5

Before Feferi can think which way to run, she hears a crowd running up the hall from the direction that the man came. She tugs on Eridan’s shirt and tries to turn him around, but before they can run a few feet in the opposite direction a voice cries “Your highness! Please stop!”

Feferi and Eridan both recognize the voice as one of the captains of the palace guard. They turn around to see Captain Thomas and four other soldiers rushing towards them, guns in hand and heavy boots stomping against the wooden floor. 

“Thank go we found you, your highness,” Thomas sighs, “Are you injured?”

“No, not at all. Do you know where Lady Heath is?” Feferi asks, still dazed.

“I’m not sure about Lady Heath, ma’am, but I can take you to the Queen. If you’ll just come with me.”

Feferi lets go of Eridan’s sleeve, and lets her hand fall to her side. The soldiers escort them up the back staircase to the third floor, where the Queen has her apartments. Except for the multitude of guards, everything looks normal. The mob just emits a low buzz from here. 

“I’ve found the Princess and Lord Ampora, your majesty,” announces Captain Thomas as the group steps into the Queen’s sitting room. The Queen is seated on yet another overstuffed gilded chair, drumming her fingers on the armrest, and is surrounded by her advisors. 

“Thank god!” she cries, actually sounding relieved. Feferi can hardly believe it.

“We should thank Lord Ampora,” says the Captain, bowing again to the Queen. “I believe he saved her highness from one of the anarchists who broke it.”

“Is this true? What happened? I demand to know!” called the Queen.

Gulping, Feferi stepped forward. Eridan was still clutching his silver gun, and had set his face into a scowl.

“Lord Ampora and I were trying to make it to the servants’ stair, to try and escape any intruders. Unfortunately we, umm… We met one in the hall, and he came at us with a file, and… And I think he was drunk, your majesty, but he rushed at us, and Eridan… Eridan shot him,” she finishes, he voice barely above a whisper. 

The Queen turns to Eridan. “Thank you, Eridan. Feferi and I both owe you a great debt,” turning to Eridan’s father, she whispers something about Eridan putting that naval training of his to good use. 

Wordlessly, Feferi moves away from Eridan and takes a place by a window. She scans the room, looking for Gladstone, before turning to look out the window.

The mob is subsiding. Guards, policemen, and soldiers are pushing the crowd farther and farther away from the palace, until the surrounding streets are rivers of people running home. It was all over so quickly, so why did it seem like a lifetime since Feferi had sat on the sofa, trying to concentrate on Captor’s demonstration?

“Highness?” someone calls, and Feferi shakes herself back to reality. Eridan is standing a few feet behind her, and he looks like he’s been trying to get her attention for a while. 

“Yes?” Feferi replies wearily.

“The mob’s gone, now, and… and your rooms have been searched. You can go back, now,” he says, twisting his ring. People are starting to file out of the room, all heading home now that the way is clear. Feferi hears some talk about meeting in the morning to discuss a solution, but right now she’s too tired to process what that could mean. 

“Where’s Gladstone?” she asks, a sense of urgency returning to her voice. Her governess is nowhere to be found in the room, and no one has mentioned hearing or seeing her.

“Your highness, I… I don’t know. I-“

“Where is Gladstone?” Feferi repeats, straightening up and whipping her head around frantically. Her voice attracts the attention of her aunt, who sends over one of her favorite ladies-in-waiting. 

“Lady Heath has not yet been found, your majesty. If you’ll just come with me, I’ll attend you back to your rooms,” Lady Gracechurch smiles kindly. 

“Can’t I please look for her? She left to try and find us a way to escape, and-“

“I’m sure that when you wake up in the morning, Lady Heath will have been found and will be waiting for you. It will be as if nothing has happened,” Lady Gracechurch insists. “Please, your highness. You need rest. And it would displease the Queen if you were to roam the palace tonight.”

Knowing that there’s nothing she can do, Feferi nods, and is following Lady Gracechurch out of the room when the Queen calls after her.

“Aren’t you going to thank Lord Ampora, niece? He saved you life tonight,” she calls, only somewhat maliciously. Feferi stops, turns around, and walks over to Eridan, who is still standing by the window.

“Thank you very much, Lord Ampora. I am quite in your debt,” Feferi whispers curtsying so that her black skirts spread out around her. She doesn’t wait for a reply, and follows Lady Gracechurch out of the room.

Falling asleep isn’t Feferi’s problem that night. As soon as her head hits her pillow, she passes out. It’s staying asleep that’s the problem. Every hour she wakes up because she thinks she hears a gunshot or a scream. Twice she wakes up convinced that the sweat on her hands is actually blood. She finally manages a few hours of nightmare-free sleep as the sun begins to rise. 

When Feferi does wake up a little past noon, Gladstone is sitting by her beside, stroking her hair and murmuring nonsense to her, just like she used to do when Feferi had nightmares as a child. Feferi shouts in delight, and wraps her governess in a tight embrace.

“I thought you were dead!” Feferi cries, tears of joy rushing down her face as Gladstone hugs her back.

“Never mind me, I’m just so glad you’re living, dearest,” Gladstone says in Feferi’s hair, which is wild and matted after tossing and turning all night.

“What happened to you? Where did you go?”

“I tried to get to the servants quarters, but some soldiers cut me off and herded me into the kitchen with the servants. They wouldn’t listen when I said I had to go back for you.”

Feferi pictured her proud, indomitable governess trying to push her way through a line of soldiers, and felt a little comforted. Pulling out of the hug, Feferi looks at her, and notices a split lip, and a bruise on her temple.

“What happened!” Feferi exclaims, running her fingers carefully over the bruise. Gladstone cringes, and Feferi takes her hand away.

“It got a little… chaotic in the servant’s hall, is all,” Gladstone assures her charge. “I’ll be fine soon enough. It is you I’m worried about. Is it true that Eridan shot a man who rushed at you?”

Feferi nods, unable to speak. Gladstone seems to understand, and pulls her back into a quick hug.

“I’m so sorry, dearest.”

Feferi nods into her shoulder.

“Now, we must do something about your hair,” rapports Gladstone, back to business as usual.

It’s nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, and Feferi sits at her dressing table in her nightgown as Gladstone patiently runs a brush through her hair, untangling the knots a brushing until Feferi’s auburn hair shines. 

“A modified reform bill is being voted on in Parliament today, and it’s expected to pass,” Gladstone tells the Princess, working on a knot. “It was written after last night. Twenty seats are to be added to the lower House, and the vote has been expanded to men who own certain types of property within the cities.”

“That’s not nearly enough!” Feferi remarks, turning around in her chair. Gladstone chastises her, and tells her to hold still.

“The Queen is also making some changes that will affect you,” Gladstone continues. “You will be… taking on a more public role. Both parties think it would be wise for you to be more visible to the public.”

Feferi lights up. She’s finally going to get out of the palace and do something!

“The Queen has also determined that, now that your are almost twenty-one, you are no longer… In need of certain attendants. Your law tutor has been dismissed,” Gladstone stops brushing. ”And The Queen has also decided that you are no longer in need of a governess.”

Feferi whips her head around.

“What?!" But… But you’ll stay, right? I’m unmarried, I still need a chaperone.”

Gladstone looks at her sadly. “The Queen has informed me that she has already selected a chaperone, dearest.”

This is more than Feferi can take. They can’t take Gladstone from her. They tried to once, and they couldn’t. They can’t take her away now.

“I won’t let them make you leave, I-“

“Shhh. There’s nothing that can be done right now, dearest. I have no doubt you’ll be your own mistress soon, and then you can do almost whatever you want.”

Feferi calms down, and allows Gladstone to persuade her to put on a proper dress, just in case someone decides to call. And someone does call.

“Your highness, Lord Ampora is here to see you,” announces a footman as Gladstone forces Feferi to eat some toast with her tea.

“I don’t want to see him,” Feferi says quickly, looking down at her hands. 

“Princess, you should receive Lord Ampora. Send him in!” demands Gladstone, and the footman bows and walks out. 

“I can’t see Eridan right now, I-“

“Dearest, you should see him now, because I don’t know when you’ll next get a chance.”

“Why? What happened?”

Before Gladstone can answer, the footman reenters, followed by Eridan, who does not look well at all. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his normally perfect posture is slouched and tired-looking. 

“Your highness,” he says quietly, bowing at Feferi, who is seated on her sofa. 

“Eridan,” she says simply, not meeting his gaze.

“Sit down, Eridan,” Gladstone commands, and Eridan wordlessly takes a seat on the chair next to Feferi’s end of the sofa. He looks around, and, seeing that he, Feferi, and Gladstone are the only ones in the room, starts to speak.

“Listen, Fef, I know why you’re upset with me,” he begins, waiting for Feferi to say something. When she doesn’t, he bites at his lower lip, and talks on. 

“I know you’re mad at me because I killed that man in the hall last night. I know you wish I would have just run, but you wouldn’t move, so I did what I had to. I’m… I’m sorry he’s dead, but I don’t regret it, Fef.”

Feferi still says nothing. 

“Fef, if there was anything I could have done to prevent it, I would have, but he was running at us with that file and he was running at you, and… And I couldn’t… I can’t stand to lose you, Fef. If he had hurt you or killed you, I never would have forgiven myself,” Eridan implores, his voice getting more urgent and desperate.

“You could have aimed somewhere else besides his head Eridan,” Feferi finally replies.

“He was blind drunk, you smelled that. I’ve seen that same look in hundreds of sailors’ eyes, and it never ends well! He was going to kill you.”

Feferi doesn’t reply. Deep down, there’s a part in her that thinks Eridan is right, but there’s another part of her that’s almost sure Eridan doesn’t care about anyone’s life but his own… And maybe hers.

She doesn’t say anything though, and Eridan groans in frustration. 

“Look, I just wanted to stop by and make sure that you were okay, which I guess you’re not, and also to say goodbye.”

This gets Feferi’s attention.

“Goodbye?” she asks, a little bewildered.

“Yes. My father told me this afternoon that I’m being sent back to sea,” Eridan replies, crossing his arms. “I’ve been assigned as an officer on the Condesce, and I have to report there in a week.”

“How… How long is your cruise?” Feferi asks. Is it possible that the Queen is taking Eridan away from her, too? He’s been on leave for more than a year, and even before had only been on short cruises. Two months patrolling the border waters, at most. 

“About nine or ten months,” Eridan replies curtly. As he says it, though, it seems to dawn on him how long he’ll be away. His shoulders sag and he lets out a short sigh. 

“And your father just told you this morning?” Feferi asks, leaning towards Eridan.

“Yes, he… He said he decided it last night.”

Feferi looks at him sadly. Eridan’s always loved the sea, and he’s always loved his work in the Navy. He’s won medals for his bravery, and not just because he’s the son of a duke and the great-grandson of a king, and third in line for the throne. During his bouts of leave, he comes back to the capital and tells Feferi all about his cruises, leaving out nothing and obviously proud of himself and of his work. Feferi knows he’ll enjoy this latest assignment, and she feels selfish for wanting him to stay, especially when she’s mad at him. 

“And you’re leaving in a week?” she asks.

“Yes.”

The silence is awkward and heavy between them. Feferi can’t decide whether she wants to beg him to stay, or to be glad he’s going away. So she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she sits on the sofa and twiddles her thumbs while Eridan turns his ring around and around on his finger. In the distance, the bells of the cathedral strike five, and Eridan stands up as the last bell rings.

“I have some other matters I have to take care of before I leave. Can I see you again before I go?” Eridan asks, looking at Feferi beseechingly.

“I… I don’t know, Eridan,” Feferi responds, still unable to look directly at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his face fall.

“Oh. Well, goodbye, then, Fef,” he says as he bows. He reaches out to take the hand he’s sure she’ll offer, but she doesn’t. His own hand falls, and he leaves.

Feferi just sits, motionless, on the sofa until Lady Gracechurch is announced. It seems the Queen wants to see Feferi. Now. Gladstone bundles Feferi into one of her nicer gowns, and Gracechurch escorts her to the Queen’s office.

Like every room her aunt has decorated, it’s swathed with Tyrian purple cloth and overdone with gold gilding. The Queen is seated at her wood desk, which has been almost completely covered with gold. It’s a bit of a shame, Feferi thinks. The wood it covers is so pretty on its own.

The Queen signs a document, and then hands it to her secretary, who affixes the royal seal. She looks up, notices Feferi, and gestures for her to come forward. Feferi does so, curtsying deeply in front of the desk. There’s no chair on her side, so she’s forced to stand.

The Queen leans back in her own chair, and surveys Feferi. This type of meeting happens from time to time, and it always means the same thing: some prince or another has asked to seek Feferi’s hand in marriage.

“What did you think of Prince Ernest?” the Queen shoots, her eyes narrowing. Her voice is deep, yet has sickly-sweet singsong quality about it. 

“I didn’t care for him much, your majesty,” Feferi admits, thinking about the tall, handsome prince who couldn’t keep his eyes off of Feferi’s maids of honor. 

“And why not?” the Queen demands.

“I have doubts of his faithfulness, majesty.”

The Queen sighs, and takes another position. 

“Did you like any of the suitors who came?”

“Some, but not enough to marry any of them.”

“What was wrong with all of them?” the Queen demands, exasperated. 

Feferi considers for a moment. If she names any of the suitors’ individual faults, the Queen will simply pick the ones whose faults she considers minor and invite them back. Or worse, force Feferi into a marriage.

So she phrases her answer carefully.

“They loved the crown more than they liked me. If I were to marry any of them, they would try to cut me off from any power you granted me, majesty, and they would stop at nothing to get more.”

The Queen actually nods in agreement, even as she bares her teeth and makes a hissing sound. Her own husband, a foreign prince, had tried to seize power from her early in their marriage. After the Queen had produced an heir, she exiled her husband, and made sure he wasn’t accepted by any court which sought favor with her own empire. Rumor had it that the prince died less than five years afterwards, but no one knows for sure. Except, probably, the Queen.

“Well, we’ll just have find a nice malleable prince for you to wed,” she hisses, pulling out a thin book and opening it to a page near the middle. Feferi can see a portrait of prince, as well as what looks like a detailed report on him.

“I had my ambassadors send me portraits and reports on the princes where they serve. I’m sure we can find you two or three to choose from.”

“If you’ll excuse me, your majesty, but why must I marry a foreign prince? If there’s a man of sufficient rank here, who knows the country and its interests, then-“

“Are you speaking of Eridan Ampora?” the Queen demands, sing song, sweet, and dangerous.

“No, your majesty, I-“

“You certainly seem to spend much of your time with him.”

“Eridan and I have been friends since we were children. He’s-“

“Are you engaged to him?” the Queen shrieks, rising out of her chair.

“No, your majesty, I am not,” answers Feferi calmly and coolly. This seems to satisfy the queen, who sits back down. 

“Good,” she says, rifling through her papers. “Good thing I sent him to sea. We need a foreign prince, who has an army we can use to crush any rebellions here, should our own army fail.”

“So, I sent Eridan Ampora away, and now I shall invite some princes to come and stay,” she continues, heaving herself out of her chair and walking towards Feferi. She takes hold of Feferi’s chin, and turns her head to the side.

“You’re pretty enough. I assume Lady Heath told you that she has been dismissed?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“I am appointing someone else to be your chaperone. Lady Heath leaves in two days, you’re to have three new maids of honor to attend you, and a new secretary to arrange all of your public engagements,” the Queen lists, sitting back down at her desk. She doesn’t notice the tears welling in Feferi’s eyes. The Queen just continues flipping through the book of princes, and doesn’t acknowledge Feferi for another five minutes.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she quips, “You may leave.”

Feferi curtsies, and back out of the room. Once she’s out the door, she runs all the way back to her room, and collapses into Gladstone’s arms.

“They’re taking you and Eridan away so that she can marry me off to someone horrible, and use me for whatever she wants,” Feferi sobs.

“You will rise above it, dearest,” Gladstone assures her. “Some day soon, you will be queen, and you will not have to answer to her, or to anyone else.”

Two days later, Feferi waves goodbye at the carriage carrying Gladstone leaves the palace. The Queen must have forgotten about assigning a new chaperone to Feferi, because no one shows up to take Gladstone’s place. Feferi walks back alone to her apartments, sit down on her sofa, and tries not to cry.

Not ten minutes later, a page opens the door, but before he can announce anyone, Eridan rushes in, out of breath and his glasses sliding down his nose. 

“Eridan!” Feferi cries as the page leaves the room. “What are you doing here?” 

“Fef, I just heard about Gladstone, I-“

Before he can finish, Feferi launches at him, and he wraps his arms around her while she cries into his shoulder. 

“She’s taking away everyone I love, Eridan. She’s taking everyone away and I can’t stop her,” she sniffs. She’s almost out of tears, and she tells herself she should still be angry at Eridan, that there’s blood on his hands and a certain type of hate in his heart; but he’s always been there for her, and Feferi’s sure there will never be a time when he won’t be.

“It’s not for long, Fef. It’s not even a year. And you’re strong. You can rise above whatever she throws at you,” Eridan soothes, his hand hovering just barely above Feferi’s hair and tentatively stroking her head. 

Feferi nods, and moves her head away for a moment, and Eridan’s hand freezes. Feferi lets it hang in the air for a moment before moving back towards it, and Eridan gently settles his hand on her head before letting out a deep sigh.

“We belong together, you and me,” he says hesitantly. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Maybe, Eridan but not… not now,” Feferi murmurs. 

“It’s not that complicated. You don’t want me to leave, and you say you love me, but all you can say is ‘maybe’ and ‘not yet’?”

“Yes,” Feferi trembles; pulling back from Eridan just enough so that she can look at him, and puts a hand on his face.

“Everything is so much more complicated. The Queen is sending you away, and you are still the only person in the world who either makes me completely happy, or completely miserable.”

Eridan opens his mouth to retort, but he silences himself, and just nods. 

“I’ll be better, I promise,” he vows, looking Feferi straight in the eye, and the most serious she’s ever seen him. “When I come back, you’ll see.”

“I hope so,” Feferi replies, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

“You should probably go, before someone finds us,” Feferi sighs, not actually wanting him to leave. 

“Probably,” Eridan laughs, rubbing his thumb into Feferi’s scalp. 

“I’ll see you in a few months?” he asks, his arms on her shoulders.

“Yes.”

They finally break apart, and Eridan gives Feferi his best bow. She extends her hand, and Eridan takes it and kisses it. He leaves after giving her a laughing, hopeful smile.

When she’s alone, Feferi decides it’s true about what they say; a young man pressing his lips to a young lady’s hand _does_ make one too excitable.


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually, Feferi’s new chaperone does arrive- Lady Imogen Prewitt is ancient and a prude, but luckily falls asleep at the drop of a hat. As soon as the lady arrives, though, Feferi sets off to find Lady Gracechurch, and asks to see the Queen. Her request is granted a day later.

“What do you want, child?” the Queen asks. She’s wheezing after overindulging at dinner, and putzing around between her chair and the window. 

“I would like to request that I name my new maids of honor, your majesty.”

“You want to select your own maids of honor?”

“Only two of the new ones. I defer to your judgment for the third.”

“Who do you want?”

“Miss Kanaya Maryam and Miss Terezi Pyrope.”

The Queen snaps her head up and strides over to where Feferi is standing. 

“Daughters of viscounts who are decidedly liberal? One of whom is the cousin of my greatest political enemy!”

“I thought that adding some liberals to my entourage would work well politically, your highness. If you grant them this, perhaps they would be more reasonable in other areas?”

The Queen considers this for a moment.

“Very well. You shall have Miss Maryam and Miss Pyrope.”

Feferi thanks her aunt profusely, curtsies, and leaves.

Feferi has her first public engagement the next week. Accompanied by Lady Imogen, Kanaya, Terezi, and several conservative Lords, Feferi christens a new ship in the navy, named “Princess Royal.” She pours over the newspapers the next day, excited to find out how the event is reported.

The reports are favorable, and all the papers praise Feferi’s beauty and poise. Feferi is frustrated, but she doesn’t expect much else. She was given a script to memorize several days before, and it was careful not to make any political statements. 

The week after, she visits Mr. Sollux Captor’s laboratory. She actually gets to pay attention to his presentation this time, and is even more impressed.

“Do you really think you’ll be able to make a functioning zeppelin within a year?” she asks, watching a small model zoom around the room.

“I should, if I get more investors,” Captor replies, swatting the model away from the open window. 

“How many people have seen your demonstrations?”

“Not that many. Most people with money are just waiting for me to fail, so they’re not exactly lining up with their checkbooks,” he shrugs, glancing at his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

“Do you have somewhere to be, Mr. Captor?” Feferi whispers so that no one else can hear. 

“Yes, I-“ he begins, but he’s interrupted by the university bell tower striking 4:30.

“Is it very important?” 

“Well, I think it is. I’m supposed to walk a friend of mine home,” he mumbles, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. 

“Oh. Well then, who am I to get in the way of that?” smiles Feferi, although she’s a little bit surprised. 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Captor. This has been most enlightening,” she says loudly enough for the entire party to hear. She makes a statement to the press, poses for some photographs, and leaves the lab fifteen minutes later. Looking out the back of the carriage window, she sees Mr. Captor running to catch an omnibus. 

Back at the palace, Feferi paces in front of Kanaya and Terezi, drumming up her courage.

“The worst she can do is say ‘no’ and send you into the country or something,” Terezi remarks, drumming her fingers on the arm of her seat. “And then you won’t have to deal with all these princes coming to sweep you off your feet.”

Feferi sighs, remembering the note she received from her aunt the day before. 

“The Queen can send princes to visit wherever the Princess goes,” Kanaya intones over a rather large book. 

Feferi sighs in exasperation just as Lady Gracechurch walks in.

“The Queen will see you now,” she says simply, smiling her kind smile. She and Feferi make small talk as they walk to the Queen’s office, where Lady Gracechurch curtseys, and a page opens the door. 

The Queen is working at her desk, and her breathing sounds labored. Feferi glides up to her and curtsies deeply.

“I suppose you want to see me about the princes I invited. You’re not getting out of it, niece, and I won’t take any resistance from you,” the Queen spits, not even bothering to look at Feferi.

“Forgive my past impertinence, but I did not come here to beg you to drive the princes away.” _I can do that by myself._ Feferi adds mentally.

The Queen looks up at her, and puts her pen down.

“What is it that you want, then?”

“You majesty, you know the plans for that immense glass building that your architect showed us last week?”

“Yes…”

“Well, I have an idea about what it could be put to use for. It can be used to show off how great our realm is and how far our empire expands.”

“Go on.”

“We are the most technologically advanced country on the planet, and I think we can show this by putting on a grand exhibition that shows off our new technologies, our advancements in the scientific fields, and the treasures of our empire. We can invite the royal families of the great countries on the continent, and charge a low admission price so that families of all incomes can come and visit,” Feferi enthuses. 

The Queen leans back in her chair and tents her hands over her nose, a sure sign that she’s listening.

“How much will this cost?” she asks.

“Mr. Brant estimated that about four-hundred thousand would suffice to build the exhibition hall, and if we charge admission, that will be paid off in no time at all. And we can invite companies and individuals to exhibit for free. It will hopefully trigger so much new investment.”

“How am I to convince Parliament to fork out four-hundred thousand for this?”

“If I may, you majesty, perhaps we could put off renovations of Peixes Castle for this? We hardly ever spend time there, and renovation can surely wait,” Feferi proposes, hoping she hasn’t offended her aunt.

“It can be done,” she says, snapping her fingers. One of her secretaries instantly appears at her desk.

“Get me the Prime Minster, Mr. Vantas, my treasurer, and Mr. Brant. I want a meeting within the week to begin plans for this. You may leave, Feferi,” the Queen insists, waving her niece away. 

Feferi slowly backs out of the room and runs back to her apartments absolutely elated. 

 

“Oh, this will do wonderfully!” cries Feferi, walking around the foundation of the future exhibition building. The many human workers stop what they’re doing when she comes near, take off their caps, and give her low bows. The automaton workers, which are kept to simple, repetitive tasks, keep on working. 

“It has such a wonderful view of the city,” Feferi continues, addressing Mr. Brant, the Queen’s architect, who’s giving her an update on the building’s progress on site.

“I was very fortunate that this land was available,” the man replies, his moustache bristling in the crisp November air. 

“The Queen had wanted to build a small palace here. I’m glad we convinced her otherwise.”  
It’s been less than two months since Feferi first posed the idea of the Exhibition, and everything is moving along swimmingly. All of the ministers liked the idea, and her aunt was anxious to show off the power of her empire, and her crown. As soon as rumors began circulating that inventors, industrialists, farmers, academics, and explorers were going to be invited to exhibit, government offices overflowed with requests for floor space. Not knowing where to send the requests, letters flooded the Prime Minister’s office, the Foreign Office, and the Home Secretary’s office until the PM was forced to establish a committee to process them. Feferi requested to head the committee, and her request was granted, to an extent. Because of her youth and inexperience, an old, respected liberal politician was chosen to run the committee with her. 

Since then, Feferi’s life has been so busy, that it’s only at night, when she’s sitting alone in her parlor with Lady Imogen, or brushing her own hair, that she really feels to loss of Gladstone and Eridan.

“I’d like to speak to some of the workers,” Feferi proclaims, ignoring Lady Imogen’s hiss and Mr. Brant’s hemming and hawing. The workers nearest to her haven’t resumed work, so she walks over to them, lifting her skirts up over mud, iron beams, and tools that litter the ground. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she calls, addressing the five or six workmen she’s closest to. 

“Your highness,” one of them sputters, and they all bow again. Feferi sighs a bit as they do, but she puts on a wide smile as soon as they come back up.

“I hope this weather doesn’t make it too difficult to work,” she continues, folding her gloved hands together. She’s cold in layers of skirts and a coat. She can’t imagine what these men, none of whom are wearing very warm-looking clothing, must be feeling.

The men look at each other, trying to figure out what they’re supposed to say back. Finally, the man closest to Feferi, a stocky teenager with a very red nose, speaks up.

“It’s not too cold, your highness,” he says, his accent so think Feferi has trouble understanding him at first. “When we’s working, s’not so bad.”

“Won’t be so nice once we get into winter, though,” grumbles an older man.

“Well, what would make it easier?” Feferi asks, truly concerned. The men see this, and become a little more relaxed.

“Some fires would be nice, your highness,” one of them chimes.

“Then you shall have your fires,” Feferi proclaims. She’s about to ask the men their names when Lady Imogen limps up behind her, and tells her that her carriage is ready to leave. Feferi pouts a bit, but won’t embarrass Lady Imogen by complaining.

“It was so nice to meet you all,” Feferi says, bowing her head at the men and smiling.

“I wasn’t doing anything improper,” Feferi complains as she, Lady Imogen, Kanaya, and another maid of honor ride back to the palace. Despite the police escort, the carriage has become hopelessly clogged in the city’s traffic.

“It was time to leave, you highness,” the old woman squeaks, and Feferi knows it’s useless to argue. When they reach the palace twenty minutes later, she jumps out the carriage as soon as the footman opens the door, and sprints up the stairs to her apartments, pointedly ignoring Lady Imogen’s pleas to walk nicely.

The Queen hosts a ball the next evening, and all Feferi can do is fake a smile as Gamzee Makara leads her into the ballroom, stepping on her new silk ball gown and her toes too many times for Feferi’s taste when they dance. She finds his attempts at conversation insipid and vapid, and is glad when the orchestra strikes up a waltz. She sits near the Queen for the rest of the evening, claiming fatigue, and occupies herself by watching Terezi and Mr. Vantas verbally sparring at the other end of the ballroom. By the time the Queen announces the last dance, though, they both have smiles on their faces, and are whispering and laughing to each other as the orchestra dies. 

A month later, all the gossip columns have picked up on what Feferi has suspected for weeks. 

_It is rumored_ writes the “Times” _that the country’s most eligible politician is soon to disappoint all the capital’s liberal young ladies._

_If Mr. Vantas ever becomes Prime Minister, he claims he’ll halve the number of capital offenses, but sources say he’s about to put his own neck into the sacred noose._ The “Courier” quips.

_Visitors to Condesce Park may now enjoy the daily sight of the Leader of the Opposition walking with The Honorable Miss Terezi Pyrope. Miss Pyrope is to be envied. No doubt she cannot see that tint to her fiancée’s skin that no amount of soap will ever wash out._

Feferi crumbles the “Monitor” between her hands and chucks it to the other side of her sitting room. She’s looking forward to a day of teasing Terezi with Kanaya, and doesn’t want anything to spoil it. 

To Feferi’s disappointment, there is no engagement ring to be found on Terezi’s finger, and, despite hours of prodding, sneak attacks, and Feferi trying every possible way to worm any information out her, Terezi keeps quiet, and only betrays a slight blush.

Another week passes, and Feferi and her co-chair Lord Portman begin inviting possible exhibitors to come to the capital to demonstrate their proposed exhibits. One of the first invited is Mr. Sollux Captor.

He lisps his way through his presentation, but Feferi and the committee are impressed enough by his design for zeppelins, automatons, radios, and even a prototype “analytical engine” to ignore his public speaking skills. Feferi even feels a little sorry for him. She can see him tripping over his words and getting progressively angrier with himself. Unfortunately, his self-loathing makes his impediment even worse, and the committee struggles to understand some of his more technical jargon. 

“Thank you, Mr. Captor,” Feferi says as he wraps up his presentation and the committee’s polite applause dies down. “We will inform you of our decision in the upcoming weeks.” Feferi gives the inventor a quick smile, trying to reassure him that there’s no doubt he’ll be admitted. 

After Captor gathers his things and leaves, the committee votes unanimously to include him in the Exhibition. 

January blows its way in, cold and dark, and construction on the Exhibition Hall is delayed because not even the cruelest manager would make his workers toil in the snow. Every other preparation continues apace, though, as Feferi holds her final selection committee meeting in the middle of the month. 

There are seven people sitting on the committee, and the only other female, besides Feferi, is the very proper and philanthropic Dowager Countess of Carnarvon, who refused to allow Feferi into the committee room at the first meeting until she put on a dress went up to her neck. Needless to say, the Dowager doesn’t come to court often, and she’s in high dungeon today, whispering to three other committee members on the other side of the drawing room where the committee meets. The members look away from the Dowager, and shift uncomfortably on their feet, and seem happy to turn their attention to Feferi as she enters with her retinue. 

Lord Portman is about to greet the Princess when the Dowager comes up behind him, her voluminous skirts rustling violently, and edges the old man away from Feferi. She doesn’t even curtsy before she’s harping about the inappropriateness of today’s presenters, and how only Feferi can dismiss them before their presentation begins. 

“Excuse me, Lady Carnarvon, but I don’t see the problem. I thought we were hearing a proposal from the Natural History Museum?” Feferi asks, wondering if this is all because she’s wearing a gown that has again failed to meet the Dowager’s prudish standards.

“Yes, we are, but-“

“If there has been no deviation from their original plan, I see no problem in allowing them to present.”

“I was not aware, your highness, of who was planning to give the presentation.”

“Surely the scientists at the museum? If you object to some of their scientific discoveries, Lady Carnarvon, then perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you absented yourself?”

The lady mumbles something about staying to protect Feferi’s honor, and backs away to allow Feferi to actually take more than three steps into the room. A page pulls the center chair out from the long committee table, and Feferi takes the seat and rings for the presenters to come in.

The team from the Natural History Museum, led by the very young Dr. Tavros Nitram, shows the committee slides of the fossils they plan to display in the Exhibition Hall, a couple skeletal models, and some rough gems, which they pass around to the committee members, several of whom have never seen uncut gemstones before.

Feferi is quite pleased with the presentation, and can’t for the life of her understand why the Dowager makes a hissing noise under her breath whenever Dr. Nitram speaks. He doesn’t _look_ like a Don Juan. He leans on a wooden cane for support, and he makes the goofiest facial expressions, especially when he’s explaining something he’s excited about which, to be fair, is almost everything in the presentation.

The scientists pack up and leave, and the door is barely closed behind them when the Dowager springs out of her chair in a way that’s remarkable for her old age, and loudly proclaims that she will not allow the committee to condone such behavior as Dr. Nitram’s.

“What behavior?” Feferi asks. “I thought he conducted himself rather well. It’s you, m’lady, who were hissing under your breath at him.”

The Dowager looks astonished.

“Child, do you mean to say that you have no… idea about what his… his _personal_ morals are?”

“This Exhibition has very little to do with personal morals, countess, and very much to do with glorifying the achievements of Her Majesty the Queen’s empire. If Dr. Nitram can best demonstrate those achievements, then he will present.”

“Shall we cast a vote, then?” diffuses Lord Portman. Feferi nods, and the Dowager wrinkles her rather large nose.

“All those in favor of accepting the Natural History Museum’s proposal,” Lord Portman prompts. Feferi enthusiastically raises her hand, followed by Lord Portman and two other committee members. 

“It is settled then,” Lord Portman says, quickly starting a discussion about how much the Exhibition’s admission charge should be. 

Later, as sleet beats down on the windows of her sitting room, Feferi asks Terezi, who had attended her to the meeting, what exactly the Dowager was raving on about. Terezi, who has been unusually quiet since the meeting, puts aside the braille law book she’s been perusing, and squints to see if anyone is in the room. Lady Imogen has excused herself briefly, so Terezi judges it safe to talk freely.

“The rumors around town say that Dr. Nitram and Gamzee Makara are lovers,” she says, ever blunt. Feferi gasps.

“Are the rumors true?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“How did the rumors start? They must have some basis.”

“Gamzee and Dr. Nitram were found in a compromising situation together after a lecture at the museum several weeks ago.”

“But what does that-“

At that moment, Lady Imogen walks in, and Feferi can’t ask any more questions.

For the next week, Feferi combs the gossip columns to find some snippet, some hint, about Lord Makara and Mr. Nitram, but there’s nothing to be found, only more and more speculation about when Mr. Vantas and Terezi are going to announce their engagement, which Terezi is still frustratingly tight lipped about. 

Feferi does notice that Terezi has taken to being tight-lipped about almost everything, though. She doesn’t tell Feferi, or Kanaya, about her plans, or about what she’s been doing when she’s not with either of them.

And then one day Terezi doesn’t show to attend Feferi to a lecture at the university law school, a trip that Feferi had pleaded and begged for permission for. There was no note, no message, no nothing. Then Kanaya showed up five minutes late.

“I apologize for my lateness, your highness,” Kanaya pants, curtsying to Feferi in the courtyard, where she has been waiting impatiently for the last fifteen minutes. 

“Let’s go, then. Lady Imogen is already in the carriage.”

Lady Imogen is already asleep in the carriage, snoring softly.

“Why are you late? And where is Terezi?” Feferi asks as the carriage pulls away from the palace doors.

“You have not been informed?” Kanaya asks, startled. Feferi notices black circles ringing Kanaya’s eyes, standing out against her pale skin. Her skin actually looks yellow and sickly today, and doesn’t have its usual healthy, vibrant glow. 

“No.”

Kanaya chews on her lower lip, trying to think about what to say.

“Just tell me,” Feferi demands.

“Did you read the gossip columns this morning?”

“No! Have Mr. Vantas and Terezi finally settled everything?” Feferi already knows what she’s going to get them as a wedding present; and instantly forgives Terezi for not showing up. 

“Of course that would make sense why she’s not here! And why you’re late and your cousin must be so happy and when is the wedding going to be?”

“No. Things are very, very far from being settled.”

“Oh. Well, what-“

Kanaya takes a deep breath. 

“It seems that the Prime Minister and the Lord Chamberlain discovered Lord Makara and Terezi in the garden last night. According to both, it was ‘obvious’ that they had interrupted a tryst, and the Prime Minister has used this evidence to silence any questions about his son’s… preferences.” 

Feferi’s eyes widen until they’re almost saucer-sized, and she’s about to launch on a tirade about how Terezi isn’t stupid enough to get involved with Gamzee Makara of all people, especially when it’s obvious that she’s practically engaged to Karkat. Lady Imogen, however, has other plans. Jolted out of sleep by an uncomfortable lurch of the carriage, and Feferi’s effusions, she gives a very audible cough. Kanaya and Feferi turn to look at her.

“Miss. Pyrope and Lord Makara have refused to marry. Therefore, her majesty did not think it appropriate for Miss Pyrope to continue as your maid of honor,” the old woman says. 

“But Terezi isn’t stupid enough to do something like that! And if her honor is still intact, I don’t see why she can’t continue!”

“If she were to marry him she-“

“But Terezi doesn’t _want_ to marry Lord Makara. Who would? He’s insane!”

“Your highness, please. The Queen has-“

“I don’t care what the Queen says!”

“You are acting like a spoiled child, your highness.”

“I’m being treated like a child!”

“Your highness, if you cannot compose yourself, you will not be allowed to attend the lecture.”

“There! I’m not a child! I don’t need you to tell me what I can and cannot do! I am the _Crown_ Princess, and I am perfectly capable of deciding where I go and judging my friend’s characters for myself.”

Lady Imogen is silent, as is Kanaya, and Feferi’s face is flushed with anger and resentment. The tension in the air is so tangible that Feferi feels like she could cut through it. Luckily, she doesn’t have to sit in the carriage much longer, and leaps out as soon as it rolls to a stop. 

Feferi tries to absorb what she can during the lecture, but it’s useless. She’s too upset, too angry, and too disappointed. Lady Imogen keeps a sharp eye on Feferi, and gives Kanaya a dirty look whenever she tries to speak. It is not a pleasant outing. 

Things get worse when they arrive back at the palace later in the afternoon. Feferi is smugly pleased when Lady Imogen excuses herself almost immediately so that she can read her papers in peace. Sure enough, the gossip columns are littered with reports about Gamzee and Terezi’s tryst, and every paper Feferi reads seems to make the story more and more salacious. Feferi still doesn’t believe that Terezi and Gamzee Makara were actually up to anything, and she certainly doesn’t believe that they were found with suitcases packed, ready to elope. 

At the bottom of the _Times_ column, Feferi sees a couple lines devoted to announcing the engagement of Mr. Sollux Captor to a girl she’s never heard of, but she can hardly bring herself to care. 

“Kanaya?” Feferi calls absently, wondering if her friend has left.

“Yes, your highness?” Kanaya replies from the armchair by the fire. Feferi can hear her snap the book she’s reading closed. 

Feferi gets out a pen and some stationary, and hastily scrawls out a note.

“I need you to find a way to get this to Terezi,” she says, walking over the fireplace and handing the sealed envelope to Kanaya. 

Kanaya looks at the envelope, a skeptical and puzzled expression on her face. Her hands are clasped around the book, which Feferi notices is some sort of gothic horror tome; the kind of thing she herself has never been allowed to read. 

“I want to hear what happened from her own lips, and not second-hand through people like Lady Imogen.”

Kanaya still looks skeptical. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to know. Did you even hear her side of the story?” Feferi demands. 

“No… I did not. I only received a rather angry version from Karkat,” Kanaya admits. 

“Will you _please_ get this to her, then?”

Kanaya nods, takes the letter from Feferi’s outstretched hand, and secrets it in her purse. Just in time, too. Lady Imogen chooses that moment to walk in.

“Her Majesty the Queen wishes to see you, Princess,” the dumpy woman huffs, smiling at Feferi in a way that reminds her sickly of her aunt. 

Feferi sighs, and wonders how long she’ll have to put up with Lady Imogen tattling on her. Hopefully not too much longer, if Feferi can use this audience to convince the Queen to send the old woman away.

By the end of the audience, though, Feferi is just begging for mercy.

It starts out innocently enough. The Queen sits at her desk, surrounded by her advisors. The Prime Minister hovers near her, as does Lord Orphaner and several other leading conservatives. To Feferi’s surprise, Mr. Vantas is there, his hands in his pockets and looking both angry and guilty. Lord Portman stands near the back with other leading liberal members of Parliament. 

The Queen begins by admonishing the Crown Princess for speaking so disrespectfully to Lady Imogen. Feferi apologizes, but hints that the Lady in Question forgets her station. Lady Imogen, who has squeezed between the Queen and Lord Orphaner, whispers something in the Queen’s ear, and shoots daggers at Feferi. 

It seems Lady Imogen forgetting her station is exactly what the Queen wants, so there’s no getting rid of her. The Queen also makes it very clear that unless Miss Pyrope marries Lord Makara, Terezi will not be allowed back at court. Feferi eyes dart between Mr. Vantas, who looks very uncomfortable, and the Prime Minister, who looks a little smug. And tries to say that she’d like to hear Terezi’s story for herself. When pressed for concrete proof that makes her so sure, Feferi has to admit she has nothing. She only wanted to give her friend the benefit of the doubt.

The Queen makes a “tsk” noise, and begins to root around in her desk drawer for something. Feferi looks over at Mr. Vantas, who looks more sad and guilty than ever.

And then the Queen pulls the dreaded Book of Eligible Bachelors from a drawer in her desk.

“Lady Imogen says you no longer wish to be treated as a child,” the Queen says, a cruel smile on her face as she flips to a page near the front of the book, bringing it close to her face so that she can read the tight handwriting of her secretary. 

“If you wish to be treated as an adult, then you must marry,” continues the Queen, handing the open book to Lady Imogen, who presents it to Feferi. Feferi shakes her head and refuses to take it.

“I have invited Prince Manuel, the younger son of King Carlos, to visit, on the understanding that he is our choice for your prince consort. He is just five years older than you, and I am sure he will make a very agreeable companion.”

Feferi doesn’t say anything, and still refuses to take the book. She doesn’t want to look at his picture, or his family tree, or what his hobbies are, or anything. She couldn’t care less about Prince Manuel, or any other prince the Queen throws at her. She wants to make her own choice, thank-you-very-much.

“Take the book, child,” the Queen commands, rising out of her seat with some difficulty. She’s going to have to get a wider chair; she’s squashed in between the arms of her current seat.

“With all due respect, your majesty, I cannot marry Prince Manuel,” ventures Feferi, pushing away the book that Lady Imogen has practically thrust under her nose. 

“If you marry, you may go where you like, and you will no longer need a chaperone. Your own income will be increased by an additional 10,000 each year,” the Queen says, trying to sweeten the deal.

“Marrying Manuel will secure your country a powerful ally, your highness,” the Prime Minister adds, walking towards Feferi with the Queen.

“I don’t even know him. All he is interested in is my crown.”

“And therefore he will do whatever it takes to make sure the crown stays in your hands.”

“If you’ll just look at this report, Princess, you’ll see that he is a very accomplished military leader,” Lady Imogen says, trying to force the book into Feferi’s hands. Feferi knocks it to the ground, and Lord Portman totters forward, picking it up, and trying to place it gently into her hands. 

“Your highness, you must marry,” he pleads, and avoiding eye contact with Feferi.

And suddenly, Feferi knows why everyone is here. The Queen has rounded up everyone is the capital she thinks might be able to cajole, convince, or threaten Feferi into marrying some man she’s never met, all to serve the political interests of the Queen and her advisors. 

“When I marry, it will be my own choice, not anyone else’s.”

The Queen is practically red with fury, and is angrily pacing around the room.

“If you continue to refuse, I will make you marry Prince Manuel, and you will not be allowed to leave this palace!”

“You cannot make me marry anyone! There are laws! Any royal in line for the throne who wishes to marry a foreigner must-“ Feferi is cut off as the Queen strides over to her with remarkable energy and begins to shake her. With her teeth banging against each other, Feferi does her best to continue.

“Must be-“ her tooth comes down on her lip “approved by Parliament.” 

The Queen shoves Feferi back and Feferi falls, hitting her head on the cold marble floor. As soon as the Queen releases her, Feferi sees several people rushing to try and catch her, but they only get there in time to help her stand back up. Mr. Vantas and Kanaya are the first to reach her. 

“Your highness!” Kanaya cries, putting two fingers up to where the pain in Feferi’s head is the strongest, and drawing them back glistening with dark red drops of blood against her pale skin. 

“Can you stand?” Mr. Vantas asks, and Feferi nods. Vantas and Kanaya each take hold of one arm, and raise Feferi up gently, and help her balance on her feet. Feferi can feel blood streaming down the back of her neck and trailing down from her split lip. 

“The simple truth is, your majesty, that you cannot get the votes you need to force me into this,” Feferi says, clinging to Vantas and Kanaya.

“Can’t I?”

“Respectfully, your majesty, my party cannot support the Princess’s marriage to Prince Manuel,” Vantas announces, taking care not to let go of Feferi.

The Queen turns on Vantas, and looks like she’s about to strike him as well, but she seems to collect herself, and draws herself up. She looks fierce, imposing, and a little bit terrifying, but Feferi doesn’t doubt for a moment that Vantas will falter.

“The people we represent will not allow it, when they hear how opposed her highness is to the marriage. And the Prince’s nationality will not please them, either.”

The Queen looks like she could murder Vantas, but instead decides to sweep dramatically out of the room, pausing before she exits.

“The Princess is to confined to her apartments until she reconsiders her decision. She is not to be involved in any further Exhibition planning, and she will be allowed no visitors except her ladies.” She turns to leave, and adds as an afterthought. “My doctor will tend to her in her chambers.”

And then the Queen is gone, her ladies and advisors scurrying out behind her. The only people left in the room are Mr. Vantas, Kanaya, and Lady Gracechurch, Lady Imogen having toddled after the Queen.

Kanaya and Lady Gracechurch help Feferi back to her room, even though Feferi assures them she can stand and walk independently. They insist that she lie down in bed until the doctor arrives, and try to staunch the bleeding from the gash on her skull, even though it’s mostly clotted up by now.

The doctor does arrive an hour later, quickly bandaging the gash and proclaiming that Feferi’s cut lip will heal on its own, in time. He wants to administer something to make Feferi sleep, claiming that she’s been “quite overexcited” by today’s events. Feferi, Kanaya, and Lady Gracechurch resist, but Lady Imogen arrives, dismisses Feferi’s friends, and has to doctor inject his serum into Feferi’s arm. Minutes later, Feferi is dead asleep.

 

When Feferi wakes up, mid-afternoon light is streaming in through her windows, and Gladstone is sitting by her bedside, stroking her hair and singing to Feferi, just as she used to.

Feferi is sure it’s a beautiful vision, but as she becomes more and more lucid, Gladstone’s touch feels more and more substantial, and her voice sounds closer and closer.

“Gladstone?” Feferi slurs. 

“There you are,” her erstwhile governess replies, smiling down at Feferi. “Lady Imogen says you’ve been asleep since this time yesterday.”

“I’ve… I’ve been asleep for more than a day?” Feferi asks, confused. Why is Gladstone here? Why is she wearing a traveling cloak? 

“I only just arrived an hour ago,” Gladstone answers, even though Feferi is sure she didn't say anything. “The Queen seems to think I will be able to convince you to marry some Prince.”

“Will you?” Feferi is still confused, and the corners of her vision seem all fuzzy and static.

“I think we had better discuss this when your just a bit more yourself, dearest,” Gladstone says, chuckling. “Now just lie back, and you can come around slowly.”

Gladstone is right; it is a slow process getting back to reality. Feferi feels like she’s trying to surface out of a huge, deep sea of water, but the current keeps pulling her down, despite her resistance. Eventually, though, her full vision returns, and she’s able to string complete thoughts together. Gladstone helps Feferi get up from her bed, and supports her over to the armchair by her bedroom fireplace, where she practically buries the princess in blankets. 

“I’m fine, Gladstone, really,” says Feferi, even as her stomach rumbles loudly. Gladstone actually laughs, and rings for some food to be brought up. 

Once Feferi has had her fill of broth, bread, and water, and the footman has cleared all the dirty dishes away, Gladstone consents to unravel Feferi from her cocoon of blankets. Feferi stands up immediately and embraces her friend and protector.

“I’m so glad you’ve come home,” Feferi whispers, laying her head on Gladstone’s shoulder.

“I’m glad, too, dearest,” Gladstone replies, stroking Feferi’s hair, careful to avoid the gashed patch of skull.

“So you’ve been called to cajole me into marrying Manuel?” Feferi laughs, sitting back down in her chair. Gladstone smiles, and takes the chair next to her.

“The Queen is trying to butter you up, and I have something I think you’ll enjoy much more than a visit from Prince Manuel,” Gladstone says, taking a rather weather-beaten letter out of the folds of her skirt. 

“What is that?”

“This, my dear, is a letter from Eridan. He sent it to me months ago in the hopes that I would see you before he did.”

“Eridan! Where is he?”

“To my knowledge, sailing somewhere in the southern hemisphere, and having a marvelous time chasing down pirates and illegal slavers.”

Feferi laughs, and eagerly takes the sea-stained envelope from Gladstone’s hand. Gladstone rises and goes to open the window, letting some fresh spring air into the room. Feferi can smell scents of the new flowers wafting over from the garden. Opening the envelope, she finds a short letter dotted with spilled ink. It can’t be easy, writing on a ship. The letter is over two months old. 

_Dear Fef,_

_I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and I hope you can forgive me by the time I come home. All the news coming from the capital lately is about this new Exhibition you’re planning, and I hope I’ll be home in time to catch the end of it. I’m sure it was all you who organized it. The Queen would never think of anything like it herself._

_I’ve been at sea for four months, and I know there’s no hope of hearing directly from you, so I hope Gladstone gets this to you, just to let you know I’m thinking about you. All the time, actually. The other officers keep telling me to get my head out of the clouds._

_Stay strong, Fef. I know you can. No matter what you decide, you can always count on me to support whatever you want._

_Eridan_

The letter smells like salt and wet wood, and Feferi takes a whiff before reading the letter over again. It’s more reassuring than she ever thought, hearing from Eridan. Just knowing that he is still out there, thinking about her, when’s he’s right in the middle something else that makes him so happy. 

“You had better burn it, before someone else finds it,” says Gladstone, stoking the fire. 

Feferi folds the letter, and clutches it in her both her hands.

“I wish there was a way I could get a message back to him,” she sighs.

“There is not. And even if we could find a way, it would be a correspondence, and then people will assume that the two of you are engaged.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be that far from the truth.”

Gladstone shoots up from her position at the fireplace. It seems Feferi has surprised even her sharp-eyed governess, who never misses anything. Well, there’s a first time for everything. 

“Not far from the truth?” she asks, her eyes darting towards the doors. 

“There’s an… understanding. I haven’t promised him anything, but…”

“Is he your choice?”

“Yes,” Feferi answers without hesitation. “There are days when he infuriates me, but… In the end, I don’t think I want anyone else.”

“The Queen will not be pleased with your choice, and neither will many of the liberal politicians.”

“I’m not marrying to please anyone but myself. And Eridan isn’t going to rule: I am.”

Gladstone looks lost in thought, and doesn’t speak for a few minutes. Feferi starts to worry that she’s somehow displeased her, and is relieved when she finally speaks.

“Well, if you’re sure,” says Gladstone, walking over to Feferi and knelling slightly, so they’re at eye-level. “I can’t think of anyone else who would be more devoted to you. He’s loved you since you were six years old.”

Feferi smiles, and Gladstone kisses her charge on the forehead. 

“You should know, though, that the Queen is planning on inviting Prince Manuel to Exhibition Opening in two months.”

“Let him come. I’ll be ready for him.”

“That’s my girl.”

After two weeks of being confined to her room with only Gladstone and Lady Imogen for company, Feferi still hasn’t given to her aunt’s demands. Gladstone pretends to try and convince her, but Lady Imogen catches Feferi and Gladstone in one too many whispered conferences, and the Queen sends Gladstone away again.

In Parliament, Mr. Vantas kicks up a fuss about how Feferi hasn’t been seen publically in weeks. The next election is set for just days after the Exhibition opens, and both support for the conservative party, and the Queen’s health are quickly deteriorating. Despite the advice of her doctors, the Queen continues to eat massive amounts, takes little exercise, and is under so much stress that rumors of her imminent death due to heart disease or nervous collapse run rampant through the country. 

Although Feferi is not allowed to continue her work with the Exhibition Commission, she is allowed parties, balls, and a return to her normal routine. She is not, however, allowed to see Terezi. Kanaya was able to deliver the note, but Terezi wasn’t willing to write down what had happened on paper. Eventually, Feferi would have to find a way to meet her face-to-face.

In mid-May, the Exhibition opens, and Queen, accompanied by Feferi, opens the Exhibition Hall, a massive glass-and-iron structure with four levels, and built around the massive trees which existed on the site before building began. The building teems with people, who make way as Feferi and her aunt wind their way through the exhibits, which range from demonstrations of new farming techniques, to technical innovations, to a vast array of the finest specimens from the Natural History Museum. The Queen has even consented to display some of the crown jewels.

The one downside of the day is Prince Manuel, who arrived two days before the opening. He has dark, swarthy skin, a deep voice, dark brown curls, and all the highborn ladies in the capital are swooning over him, except for the lady he came to win over. Feferi is polite but distant to the prince, and politely listens to him as he talks about his disinterest in the Natural History exhibit. She hasn’t spoken above three words at a time to him this entire visit, but he seems content to talk on and on about whatever pops into his head. While he complains about the fruits of Feferi’s hard work, Feferi reminds herself that Eridan will be back in just about a month, and soon she’ll be touring these exhibits on his arm. 

Feferi is pleased to see that Mr. Captor’s exhibit space is by far the most popular. He had given a speech at the opening, and had carried himself well. As he gives Feferi and the Queen a private tour, he thanks her when she praises him, and admits that he had his wife type up his speech weeks ago. He can’t read his own handwriting, and it took all that time to make sure he could get through the fifteen-minute speech with as few blunders as possible.

There’s a ball that evening to open the Exhibition, and Feferi is forced to dance with Prince Manuel for the first two dances, but excuses herself to go stand by the Queen as Mr. Captor and his wife are presented to Feferi’s aunt. Captor’s wife, Aradia, seems nice enough, rather intelligent, and looks absolutely stunning. Even Feferi has a hard time believing that her father is simple farmer. 

She dances with some member of the nobility, and is relieved when Lord Cross’ son, Equius, is nowhere to be found. Lord Makara may step on Feferi’s toes and be the means of ruining one of her best friends, but dancing with Equius has always been torture. He must run on a much higher temperature than everyone else, because he always seems to be sweating, and doesn’t know his own strength. Feferi’s fingers have been bruised too often after finishing a dance with him, and she doesn’t want to ruin her blue and green ball gown because of his sweaty hands. 

Feferi deftly pushes Prince Manuel towards Kanaya, who hasn’t really danced all evening, and gets to end the ball with Mr. Vantas. It’s the first time Feferi’s had a chance to speak to him semi-privately since what happened with Terezi, and she’s just dying to know what happened. Her good breeding keeps her from mentioning it but, to her surprise, Vantas brings it up himself. 

“I should thank you, your highness, for giving Miss Pyrope the benefit of the doubt. It’s more than I gave her,” he admits, looking a little shamed.

“What happened? All I know is what I’ve read in the gossip columns, and Lady Imogen practically hits Kanaya whenever she tries to tell me anything about it.”

“It’s… it’s too complicated to explain here, and Terezi can explain it much better than I can, so, I’ll leave it to her.”

“But she’s guiltless?”

“Not one-hundred percent, but she didn’t do anything wrong, and I was stupid enough to go off on her before I heard her side of the story.”

“So are you two friends again?”

“We’re more than friends, actually,” Vantas blushes, trying to focus on the steps of the dance. 

“Making plans?” Feferi asks, arching her eyebrow. She’s been doing it a lot lately, and suspects it’s something she picked up from Kanaya.

All Mr. Vantas does is smile and blush. The orchestra dies, and Mr. Vantas escorts Feferi back to where Lady Imogen is standing on the edge of the ballroom. Kanaya appears soon afterwards, having slipped away from Prince Manuel.

“You owe me,” she whispers into Feferi’s ear as they file out of the ballroom after the Queen. Feferi laughs, and falls asleep easily that night.

For the next two weeks, Feferi reads every newspaper she can get her hands on, trying to follow the election campaigning. Her public appearances are kept to a minimum during these two weeks, as she can’t appear to be campaigning for either party. Prince Manuel stays on, though, and fights a losing battle to win Feferi over. The Queen tries to pair them together, and creates outings where her niece and the prince can enjoy each other’s company under the correct supervision.

One of these outings is a morning walk in Condesce Park. Feferi and Manuel are kept to the main promenades, and don’t stop to talk to anyone, kept moving by Lady Imogen and a huge retinue of attendants. There’s a strong breeze, and Feferi can feel her hatpins straining against the wind. 

Walking next to Manuel, who is droning on about another military victory he turned the tide in, Feferi sees Terezi, standing in the shade of a massive oak tree shading the main promenade. She’s darkly clothed, and everyone else in Feferi’s retinue is busy paying attention to Manuel, so no one notices the disgraced former maid of honor. A gust a wind blows through, and Feferi deftly removes her hatpins without anyone noticing, sending her hat flying off in Terezi’s direction. Feferi scampers off after it before anyone can stop her, and stops right in front of Terezi, who reaches the hat first. 

“Your highness,” Terezi cackles, curtsying and handing Feferi her hat. She’s lost a little bit of weight since Feferi saw her last, but otherwise she looks absolutely the same. Average height, dark glasses shading her eyes, and her short hair pulled up into a small, messy bun. 

“Thank you, Terezi,” Feferi says, genuinely pleased to see her friend.

“Quick. Tell me in two minutes what happened,” Feferi urges, looking back over her shoulder at her entourage, which is lumbering far behind on the promenade. Dumpy little Lady Imogen is waddling as fast as she can towards Feferi and Terezi, but she seems to be the only one who realizes who Feferi is talking to. 

“That’s impossible in two minutes, but basically I did that disgusting clown Lord Makara a favor. Only his father was supposed to find out, we didn’t expect him to tell the whole blasted town.”

“But you didn’t…”

“No. Nothing happened. We waited until we heard the Prime Minister walking in the garden; we messed up our hair a little, and sprang back from each other once the PM found us. Gamzee said he’d make his father promise not to tell anyone, but he just stood there and didn’t say anything.”

“The nerve! He has no honor, Terezi, and I’m glad you weren’t stupid enough to actually get involved.”

“I did get involved, and I got thrown to the wolves.”

Feferi is about to reply, but Terezi’s cackling smile turns into a frown, and Feferi can hear Lady Imogen panting behind her.

“Oh, Lady Imogen, you didn’t have to run! Terezi was just about to help me secure my hat,” says Feferi, without turning around to see what she’s sure is a very red, and very angry, old woman. 

“If you please, your highness, I can-“

But Feferi is already handing her pins to Terezi, and positioning her own hat on her head. Terezi smiles again, and squints behind her glasses as she secures the large hat to Feferi’s head. 

“Thank you, Terezi,” Feferi says as her friend finishes, resting the pin’s hold. They probably won’t hold up to much more wind, but Feferi doubts she’ll be allowed to stay in the park much longer, even if Prince Manuel is here. 

Sure enough, Lady Imogen herds Feferi away from Terezi as soon as she’s sure the princess’s hat is secure. Lady Imogen mutters under her breath as she escorts Feferi and Manuel back into their open-topped carriage, and the mismatched party is shuttled back to the palace, Manuel still droning on and on.

Back at the palace, Lady Imogen excuses herself when Feferi and Kanaya retire to Feferi’s apartments to rest, and Feferi takes the opportunity to ask Kanaya what she knows about Terezi and Mr. Vantas.

“After the election is finished, they plan to marry,” Kanaya says simply, not able to contain her smile.

“The election is just two days away!” cries Feferi. Now she has yet another reason for wanting the whole thing to be over with. The liberals have a strong lead, and Mr. Vantas looks set to become the youngest Prime Minister in the nation’s history. 

“Yes.”

“Terezi said she was doing a favor for Lord Makara. Why did that favor involve the prime Minister interrupting a fake tryst?”

“Do you remember the Dowager Countess of Carnarvon’s objects to Dr. Nitram?”

“Yes, of course,” replies Feferi, realization dawning on her face before Kanaya answers.

“The rumors, it seems, are true. The Prime Minister had his suspicions, and was threatening to ruin Dr. Nitram’s career. Lord Makara reasoned that if his father found him in a compromising situation with a young lady, he’d stop his threats.”

“And he did… He just didn’t keep quiet about the situation, like Lord Makara and Terezi expected.”

“Terezi was the only girl crazy enough to help him, but he proved how spineless he is when he refused to open his mouth to stop his father from spreading the news,” Kanaya says, her mouth setting into a frown as she clenches her fists. 

“And your cousin-“

“Didn’t even want to speak to her after he heard. He ended his engagement with Terezi and his friendship with Lord Makara.”

Feferi doesn’t ask for anymore. She knows how it’s all going to end now, and she can’t wait to see the look on her aunt’s face when the marriage is announced.

“My cousin asked me to give you this, as well,” Kanaya continues anyway, pulling a folded slip of paper from her handbag and smiling coyly. Feferi takes the paper, and notices that it is stamped with the Navy Department’s seal.

“This was on his desk the other day, and Terezi told him you would probably be interested. Karkat wants to thank you for everything you have done.”

Feferi sits up and slowly unfolds the paper. It’s a summary of the latest dispatches about the location of the fleet, and as she scans down the paper, one report leaps out at her. 

HMS Condesce two days from homeport.

Feferi gasps, and Kanaya chuckles. 

“How did Terezi know that-“

“She has her ways.”

Two days later, Feferi reads a newspaper article about the HMS Condesce pulling into port, and her successful mission abroad. There’s a short mention of Eridan as the ship’s first mate, but not much else to satisfy Feferi’s burning curiosity. Is he coming back to the capital? Will he be assigned to another ship? How long is his leave?

Feferi’s stress builds when she is called to her aunt’s side to wait for news of the election. Too tired to do any work, the Queen lays on her fainting sofa, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. Prince Manuel, to Feferi’s chagrin, has been called to wait as well, and seems to take the invitation as a sign that he’s being accepted as part of the family. He attaches himself to Feferi’s side, and follows her around as she paces the length of the room. After fifteen minutes of his endless, self-centered prattling, Feferi finally shuts him up by launching into her longest speech at him since he arrived. She talks ceaselessly about reforms, the election, and the likelihood of rain tomorrow. It keeps him quiet until the Queen’s head secretary arrives with the results of the election. No one is surprised when he announces that Mr. Karkat Vantas will be the new Prime Minister. 

People still express their disappointment, though, as the Queen’s ladies help her sit upright. She’ll have to receive Mr. Vantas soon, and she wants to look as imposing as possible. 

Feferi, however, can hardly contain her joy. When the news is announced, she clasps Kanaya’s hand and beams at her. Everyone else’s attention is on the Queen, so only Prince Manuel notices, and he gives her an odd look.

The day after the election is a flurry of activity. The Queen has to approve the new ministers that Mr. Vantas has proposed, which she does quickly, knowing that any resistance on her part could lead to political unrest. The liberals have a clear majority, but not quite enough to enact the sweeping reforms they want right away. As soon as the Queen signs the papers approving her ministers, she begins to complain loudly to anyone who will listen about how reforms will curtail her power, and how she’s being taken advantage of in her ill health.

Feferi manages to avoid consoling the Queen, but Lady Imogen, anxious to curry favor, leaves Feferi in her apartments with Kanaya while she strokes the Queen ego.

During all the hustle and bustle, Eridan arrives.

At first, when the footman opens Feferi’s door to announce a visitor, Feferi is sure that Mr. Vantas or one of the new ministers will come in. The winner of the latest election usually pays a customary visit to the heir to the throne, and Feferi has been told to expect the new Prime Minister today or tomorrow.

Instead, the footman announces Eridan, who walks in slowly, his eyes trying to see around the half-open door. The footman exits, and Feferi smiles. Eridan’s skin is dark and tanned, and the sun has bleached his sandy-blond hair. His gait is still rolling, as if he hasn’t quite gotten used to walking on land again. A huge smile spreads across his face when he sees Feferi sitting wide-eyed on the edge of her sofa, her freckles standing out against her pale skin.

Eridan manages to get out a “Hello, your-“ before Feferi launches herself off of the sofa and wraps her arms around Eridan’s neck, pulling him down to that she can plant a soft, lingering kiss on his mouth. Eridan makes an startled gulping sound, like a fish who’s leapt out of its pond and accidently landed on the bank, but puts his hands on Feferi’s arms, giving her the softest of kisses back as a blush spreads across his face. 

Feferi pulls back, and she’s beaming. Eridan glances away from her, his own eyes darting around the room and settling on Kanaya with a worried look. Kanaya smiles, selects a book from the table near her seat, and backs away to the corner of the room.

“No one else is here,” Feferi assures, laughing at Eridan’s expression as she lays a palm on his cheek. He feels slightly briny, and stills smells like salt and wet wood, just like the letter that Feferi’s kept secreted at the bottom of her writing box for the past several months. 

Eridan takes Feferi’s hand off his face and kisses it, cradling it in both of his. 

“I guess you missed me?” he asks, smiling.

“Of course I did, idiot,” Feferi says, moving in closer to Eridan and keeping an eye on the door. 

Eridan rolls his eyes, and Feferi kisses him again. She slips out of his arms and pulls him down next to her on the sofa.

“Tell me all about what you did while you were away,” she demands.

“I want to hear about you.”

“But you went away and did something interesting. I just stayed here, and nothing changed.”

“Fef, you’ve done a lot in the past nine months, and you know it,” Eridan admonishes, picking up one of the papers Feferi has scattered across the coffee table. The main headline is election-related, but a smaller article on the right side of the front page is talking about what a success the Great Exhibition is.

“I know, but you already know about that. Except for your letter, I haven’t heard from or about you in almost a year.”

“Will you tell me about what you’ve been up to afterwards?”

“I promise.”

Eridan regales Feferi with his best stories. Running down pirates in the middle of the ocean, his adventures in some of the foreign ports, what his captain was like, a fire that almost consumed the ship, and the horrible food. He also hints that he got Feferi a present, but that he’s waiting for the right time to give it to her. By the end of his tale, Feferi has stationed herself on Eridan’s lap, managing to pay complete attention to him while attempting to distract him with kisses and shy touches. Eridan doesn’t complain, and settles his hands on Feferi’s waist, squeezing whenever he tries to regain focus.

“Now it’s your turn,” he finishes, glancing towards the door. It’s been over an hour, and Lady Imogen is nowhere to be seen. In the corner, Kanaya continues to plough through her book. 

“Well, a week or so after you left, I went to the Queen, and…”

Feferi tells Eridan all about the Exhibition planning, her more memorable committee meetings, how nice it was to have Terezi and Kanaya around, Terezi subsequent fall from grace, and all the Queen’s attempts to control her. She leaves out the bit about the Queen wanting to marry her off, but Eridan notices the omission, and asks about Prince Manuel.

“He’s self-centered and aggressive, and I don’t like him at all,” Feferi pronounces, running her hands through Eridan’s hair. 

“He’s been here for weeks, Fef. The Queen wouldn’t keep him around this long if she thought you would turn him down.”

“She wants to force me into it, which won’t ever happen. She doesn’t have the support in Parliament.”

“What did she try to bribe you with?”

“Money, choice in who I have in my household, and freedom,” says Feferi, watching Eridan raise his eyebrows, like he still can’t quite believe she’s still sitting in his lap after being offered it all. “She’s responsible for this gash in the back of my head, though, so I wasn’t in the mood for bargaining,” Feferi adds quickly, running her hand over the raised but hidden scar on her skull. Eridan puts his fingers over hers, finds the scar, and looks murderous.

“Feferi, if she-“

“Shhh. Mr. Vantas and Kanaya were there, and made sure nothing else happened.”

Eridan’s look softens a little bit, and he moves his hand down Feferi’s head to her neck, rubbing small circles into it. Feferi feels something like an electric shock fly down her back, and she has to stifle a small gasp. 

“There is a way, though, that we can make sure she doesn’t force me to marry anyone but you,” Feferi says, her voice dropping to a whisper as she moves in closer to Eridan, who looks a little intrigued. 

“What’s that?” 

Feferi moves a hand up Eridan’s leg, and she feels him shudder beneath her. Her hand passes an increasingly obvious tent in his pants, and reaches deep into his pocket, searching for his glasses. She finds, them, slowly draws them out, and places them on his face.

“Fef...” Eridan huffs, barely audible. He’s blushing furiously and his hands feel like they’re giving Feferi bruises through her gown and her corset. He’s also constantly glancing towards the door, afraid that someone will walk in.

“Not here,” Feferi breathes. “But soon. I don’t want to have to wait until she dies, Eridan.”

“Fef, are you sure it’s-“

“Do you not want to?”

“No! No, I just… I know what you’re thinking. You want someone to walk in on us and-“

“Nope. That’s not it. Rather, if Manuel ever proposes before the Queen dies, she’s going to ask why I refused him. If she doesn’t buy the list of reasons I’ve already given her, I’ll have to tell her that I’ve made love to you, and she can’t marry me off to anyone else if I have.”

Eridan nods, and looses his grip just a little bit.

“So, when are we going to do this?” he whispers.

“Hmm. I’ll figure it out.” 

Kanaya “Hems” at this point, even though she can’t possibly hear what’s being said. Feferi maneuvers herself off of Eridan’s lap, moving to a more respectable position a few inches away from him. 

Eridan reluctantly leaves soon after, and Kanaya comes over to sit on the sofa as Feferi gushes excitedly about Eridan coming home. 

Eridan and Feferi don’t manage to see each other again until almost a week later, when the Queen gives a ball to inaugurate the new government. By the time Eridan comes through the receiving line, Feferi feels like she’s about ready to burst, and it’s all she can do to keep from seizing his hand and just running upstairs with him.

Prince Manuel compounds her frustration, since Feferi has to open the ball with him. He chatters about the nerve of the liberal reformists, although he does dance rather well. It’s a relief when the second dance proves to be a waltz, and Feferi excuses herself to go give her congratulations to Mr. Vantas. From what Kanaya has told her, Feferi knows that Terezi and Vantas are planning to marry sometime next week, although no news of it has leaked to the press yet. Terezi wouldn’t be accepted back at court as long as the Queen was living, though, and Mr. Vantas has abstained from dancing tonight, electing instead to chat with his ministers and other partygoers, reveling in his victory.

He also unintentionally offends Prince Manuel, who storms off towards the other side of the ballroom, leaving Feferi alone with Mr. Vantas. Out of the corner of her eye, Feferi notices Lady Imogen putzing toward her. Before the chaperone can arrive, though, Eridan appears at her side. 

“Your highness,” he says, failing to hide a conspiratorial smile. Feferi responds with the slightest of curtsies, and Mr. Vantas just looks bemused. 

“Congratulations on your election, Mr. Vantas,” Eridan offers, acting extremely affable and even sincere. Feferi is just as surprised as Mr. Vantas is.

“Thank you, Lord Ampora,” he replies, followed by a polite inquiry about his most recent cruise. Eridan replies politely just as Lady Imogen makes her presence known.

“Your highness, perhaps you would prefer to talk with Prince Manuel? The orchestra will not play two waltzes in a row.”

“You’ll have to apologize to Prince Manuel for me, Lady Imogen. I just promised Eridan the next two dances.”

Lady Imogen balks, but the waltz ends, Feferi places her hand in Eridan’s, nods at Mr. Vantas, and she and Eridan walk onto the dance floor.

As the music picks up, Feferi tells Eridan not to fall asleep that night. His father has recently accepted a position in the Queen’s entourage, and both he and Eridan have been offered rooms in the palace for the evening. 

The rest of the ball passes in a blur. The evening is short. The Queen isn’t in much of a celebratory mood, and can barely sit up straight on her overly gilded throne. Feferi dances three times more with Eridan, as well as with several other nobles. She ends the ball with Manuel, who doesn’t seem at all suspicious at Feferi’s lack of conversation.

The ball ends just past midnight, and Feferi pretends to fall asleep as soon as she falls into bed. Her attendants leave, and her maid sleeps on a trundle bed in Feferi’s adjoining dressing room. As soon as Feferi hears her heavy snores, she climbs noiselessly out of bed and spirits down the halls of the palace, which are eerily quiet after the buzzing activity of the ball. Even the servants have gone to bed, and there’s no one to stop Feferi as she sneaks to the other end of the palace, where Eridan is no doubt still awake.

Turning down a dark corridor, Feferi runs her hand along the wall until she finds a statue of some Greek goddess set in a small niche. Eridan’s door is right next to it, and Feferi gives the quietest of knocks. The door is opened almost immediately by Eridan, most of his body concealed by the door as Feferi darts inside. 

For the first time all evening, she feels nervous. Here she is, in the dead of night, wearing only her thin robe and her even thinner nightgown, standing in front of Eridan, of all people, inviting him to basically ruin her. 

Her second thoughts disappear as soon as she sees Eridan. He’s still wearing the pants he wore to the ball, and he still has his glasses on, but his shirt is gone, revealing pronounced tan lines and really, really, defined muscles.

Feferi leans back against the door, and locks it with a loud click. Eridan blushes, takes hold of her hand, and pulls her away from the door.

“Did you… Have a nice time tonight?” he ventures, pulling Feferi close and running his hands over her silk robe and nightgown. 

“Uh-huh,” Feferi replies, pressing herself up against Eridan’s chest. He gulps, and doesn’t say anything.

“I would have had a lot more fun if it had ended sooner,” Feferi continues, taking Eridan’s head in her hands and pulling him down for a kiss.

It isn’t like their first one. This time Eridan opens his mouth and lets out a final sigh, and then there’s tongue and teeth running over and nibbling at lips, and Feferi loops her arms through Eridan’s, hooking them around his shoulders and pulling herself flush up against him. Eridan runs his hands up and down her waist, eventually making his way up to her neck, where he runs his fingers around the neck of Feferi’s robe and oh, that feels good. Feferi disentangles herself from Eridan as he slips the silk off of her, sending a chill down her arms as the robe falls to the floor. 

“We should… probably go to the bed,” Eridan breathes, looking down at Feferi with wide, amazed eyes, his fingers stroking gently at her arms. Feferi nods, and Eridan leads her across the room the very large and extravagantly pillowed bed. He sits down on the edge, and pulls Feferi on top of him.

 

“You’re absolutely _beautiful_ Fef,” Eridan whispers into Feferi’s skin, and Feferi smiles. 

The two of them are burrowed under the covers in Eridan’s bed, curled up together and coming down from post-sex highs. Feferi’s skin is still sensitive, and goose bumps erupt on her skin as Eridan traces the curve of her waist with his fingers. It’s just past two o’clock, and the servants won’t be up for another four hours. 

“Don’t leave yet,” Eridan says, pulling Feferi closer to him. He lies on his back and Feferi snuggles up to him, her hand splaying across his chest and her head nestling under his chin.

“We should do this more often,” Feferi says, the smile evident in her voice. Eridan is so warm, and she has no desire to leave yet. 

“Yeah. Maybe one day you could spend the entire night.”

“And not go sneaking off like a thief before everyone wakes up.”

“Well, you did steal something.”

“I didn’t steal anything if you gave it to me.”

“Speaking of giving you things,” Eridan smiles, kissing Feferi gently on the forehead before breaking apart from her, rolling over on the bed towards his nightstand. Feferi whines, but Eridan is back seconds later, concealing something in his hand.

“I told you I got you something while I was away. You… You don’t have to take it, but it’s yours, whenever you want it.”

He opens his hand. Inside is a gold ring studded with a small but brilliant blue diamond. It’s obviously an engagement ring, and Feferi gasps as she sees the stone in the light of the moon.

“We stopped over in Skaia for a few weeks, and no one knows how to cut diamonds like the Skaians, so I-“

Feferi cuts him off with a kiss, takes the ring out of his hand, and places it on the ring finger of her left hand. She admires the stone in the moonlight, and presses herself back against Eridan. 

“Yes,” she says simply, and enthusiastically kisses her consent. 

 

Feferi has been proposed to twice in the past twelve hours. 

She’s not even down from her post-sex-Eridan-is-mine-forever high when Lady Imogen shakes her awake, and tells her that Prince Manuel is waiting in Feferi’s sitting room to see her. 

“Can’t he wait?” Feferi asks, rolling over in bed away from Lady Imogen. She only just fell asleep three hours ago, delaying coming back to her own room as long as possible. She hadn’t left Eridan’s room until almost five in the morning, and she’d had to dodge the early-rising servants on her way back. She managed to avoid everyone, though, and climbed into her bed, even though she knew that falling asleep quickly was going to be impossible. 

“No, it cannot, your highness,” insists Lady Imogen, tugging at Feferi’s rather loose braid. It had come undone last night, and Feferi hopes that Lady Imogen will ignore Eridan’s sad attempt at braiding. 

Feferi moans, but climbs out of bed, and allows her maids to ambush her. Her hair is done, her corset laced, and her gown put on in record time, and Lady Imogen prods Feferi into her sitting room, where Manuel is waiting. The Prince is sitting up ramrod straight on the sofa, wearing his bright red military uniform and innumerable medals and ribbons. He stands up smoothly as Feferi enters the room.

“Your highness,” he says, bowing. He reaches out for Feferi’s hand, which she has offered to him. She’s in a generous mood this morning, and is even willing to sit through a few hours of the Prince’s tedious, self-centered prattling. 

Her mood changes when he doesn’t let go of her hand.

“You can have no doubt as to why I am here, Princess,” he begins, his accent heavy and his speech obviously prepared. Feferi yanks her hand out of his, and tries to stop this before it really begins.

“Please, Prince Manuel, I-“

“Princess Feferi,” he cries, talking over her and taking her hand again. “During my visit here to your fine country, I have seen many of its beauties, but you, are by far, the-“

“Your highness,” Feferi nearly shouts. The Prince is silenced, and Feferi hears a sharp gasp from Lady Imogen.

“Thank you, for your praises and for the offer I am sure you are about to make. However, I must decline.”

“But, your highness, the Queen, your aunt, said you were most open to my intentions!”

“The Queen knows little about my heart.”

Prince Manuel looks stunned, and tries to protest.

“Lady Imogen will show you out,” Feferi decrees, and Lady Imogen, cowed by the authority in Feferi’s voice, ushers the prince out. 

Before Lady Imogen can give Feferi a proper tongue-lashing for refusing the prince, another visitor is announced. Mr. Vantas arrives almost immediately after Manuel leaves. 

His doesn’t bring good news. The Queen is not in good health, and is delaying making critical decisions, but, and Mr. Vantas notes, there’s nothing Feferi can really do about that.

Prince Manuel eventually comes up in conversation, and Feferi colors with embarrassment and frustration when she tells Mr. Vantas about the proposal. Mr. Vantas just laughs, and assures Feferi that he and his government will support her in her decision to reject the foreign prince. Vantas then asks her bluntly about Eridan.

“We are engaged,” says Feferi, smiling. No one else is in the room, Lady Imogen left when Mr. Vantas arrived. Feferi can say what she likes. 

“He’s not very popular. His father is cruel, and Eridan is offensive, disliked, and maybe even a little crazy.”

“He can be abrasive, I know, but… He’s better, when he’s around me. And he’s not the one who’s going to be wearing the crown. I will be.”

“Of course, your highness,” Karkat says, nodding and looking a little awed.

The interview concludes, and Feferi is called away to speak to the Queen. Or, more likely, to be yelled at for not accepting Prince Manuel.

The Queen doesn’t have much energy for a good verbal thrashing, though. She’s lying of the sofa in her bedroom, looking vacantly out the window.

“You won’t marry the Prince?” is the first thing out of her mouth.

“No, your majesty. I cannot.”

“And why is that?” the Queen replies, trying to sit up and wheezing for her efforts. 

“He is vain and shallow. And I do not love him.”

The Queen just sighs, and falls back against her cushions. She mumbles something about Feferi acting just like her own daughter.

“Come here, child,” she beckons, and Feferi walks over to the sofa and kneels beside it. The Queen rolls over and takes Feferi’s face in one of her bloated hands.

“You look so much like my own daughter. I would feel different about death if I knew she was to succeed me. Instead I have you. You, who will probably give up all of your power and leave our family with nothing.”

“I will do whatever I feel is right, you majesty.”

The Queens mutters something that Feferi can’t quite make out, and Feferi is dismissed. 

Feferi can’t shake the feeling that her aunt’s days are numbered. For the first time in generations, the conservatives have been defeated, the Queen is gluttonous and overindulges, and she’s had a far from relaxing private life. First her husband tried to wrest control from her. She had him exiled. Then her beloved younger sister, Feferi’s mother, died in a carriage accident. Four years later, the Queen’s own daughter gave up her birthright as Crown Princess, and left the country for self-imposed exile. Such things weigh on a person, Feferi supposes. 

Everyone in the palace seems to be congregating in the corridors immediately surrounding the Queen’s apartments. Lady Imogen didn’t leave when Feferi was dismissed, so the Princess finds herself wandering around the palace by herself, looking for Eridan. She finds him by the fishpond, and he greets her with a warm embrace and gentle kiss on the forehead. 

Feferi leans into him and sighs. 

“Everything seems to have happened overnight.”

“Well, we had sex, you accepted my proposal, you turned down Prince Manuel’s, and the Queen is probably going to be dead within the week.”

“You heard about the Prince’s proposal?” 

“Yes, and I am going to challenge him to a duel next time I see him,” Eridan replies, mock serious. “Seriously.”

“No, you’re not. I forbid it,” Feferi says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Eridan. They might as well not hide it now, and it’s not as if anyone is watching. 

“If my Queen commands, then I must obey.”

“I’m not Queen yet.”

“Just wait.”

So they do. They sit in the shade near the pond until almost dusk, when the sounds of several pairs of feet running on the gravel walkways fill the air. From around the hedge come Mr. Vantas, the Lord Chamberlain, the Archbishop, and Lady Gracechurch. As they approach Feferi, who is seated on a stone bench with Eridan, they drop to their knees. 

“Your majesty,” Mr. Vantas begins, still on his knees. “I regret to inform you that your aunt, the Queen, has died, and the throne now passes to you.”

Feferi stands up, and Mr. Vantas offers her the Queen’s coronation ring, which has been worn by every monarch for six hundred years. Feferi takes it, and slides it onto her finger. 

“Long live the Queen!” cries Eridan, dropping to his knees. 

“Long live the Queen!”


End file.
